Innocent, Vigilant, Ordinary
by Oxymoronic8
Summary: ON HIATUS. Bella spent the first two years of her life in Forks slowly falling for Jacob. As her senior year begins, a new family moves to town and she begins to question the difference between what she thought she needed & what she never knew she wanted.
1. Preface & Chapter 1: Sixteen

**Summary: **

Bella Swan spent the first two years of her life in Forks developing a friendship with Jacob Black that finally turned into something more. As she begins her senior year of high school, a new family moves to town and Bella slowly begins to question the path she thought her life would follow. Sometimes there is a difference between what you think you need and what you never knew you wanted. Takes place during the timeframe of _New Moon_ and _Eclipse_.

**Story Notes: **

OK, so this is my first ever fanfiction for anything, but I've been kicking this around in my head for awhile. It moves a bit slower than most, and Jacob features more heavily than some would prefer, but ultimately this is an Edward/Bella story. Feel free to be brutally honest (how else will I learn, right?). It's not that original of a plot (i.e., Bella doesn't enter the Miss America pageant and fight off aliens during the swimsuit competition), but I really feel strongly about it and think I can take it to someplace really great. I am being quite literal with an alternate universe where Bella came to Forks as a sophomore and Edward Cullen wasn't there, meaning every decision and difference resulting from those two changes never happened. If anyone is actually reading this, I am beyond flattered.

DISCLAIMER: Things I own: Too many shoes, a self-absorbed cat, and anyone I play at Scrabble. Things I don't: The characters, plot, and setting of Stephenie Meyer's _Twilight _series, the line from Bright Eyes' "First Day of My Life" that I wove into the preface, and the title of Appleseed Cast's amazing song "Innocent, Vigilant, Ordinary." My only intent is procrastinating instead of studying for the Illinois Bar Exam, not to commit any copyright infringement.

**Chapter Notes (Preface & Sixteen): **The Preface and Chapter One are posted together.

**PREFACE**

_"I'm exactly right for you, Bella. It would have been effortless for us — comfortable, easy as breathing. I was the natural path your life would have taken… if the world was the way it was supposed to be, if there were no monsters and no magic." --_ Jacob Black, _Eclipse,_ p. 599

In a world without monsters and magic, Jacob Black and I orbit each other; we're a universe consisting of only two. He makes my life simple and protects me from the inexplicable loneliness that shadowed me until the moment I met him. Our love is based on they sort of trust and devotion that most people take a lifetime to find. Someday we'll grow up, bind ourselves to each other for life, and raise a family. Our lives will run their course easily, comfortably. And, just like that, one day we'll pass from this life into the unknown, having never needed anything more.

In a world without monsters and magic, it's best not to dwell on what could have been. After all, why hold out for something else, something that may not even exist, when we can be safe, all our needs met? I would rather be working for a paycheck, being part of something real and uncomplicated, than waiting to win the lottery. Life is meant to breed disappointment; when fate intervenes and gives you security and inner peace, you don't gamble it away for a chance at an ecstasy that will likely never come. We build our lives in reality, knowing that paradise only exists in fairytales.

In a world without monsters and magic, Jacob Black and I are happy. But we're still without magic. We share a happiness rooted in reason. We feel complete because we are ignorant to what we are missing. What we have is enough because we are blind to what magic brings; our hearts have never beat out of our chests in the name of pure passion, and we will never have to question the fate of our souls because in our commonplace lives, we take no risks. Going through life with an ordinary, natural love is all you need... That is, until you find the magic that you never knew existed, that you never knew you wanted_. _Suddenly, the ordinary is no longer enough; you need the extraordinary.

**CHAPTER ONE: Sixteen**

Jacob turned sixteen on a Wednesday. As I drove into his driveway, I spotted him sitting on the shabby stoop, smiling that glowing, contagious grin I knew so well. For the past several months, something else lurked beneath the surface of that smile, something motivated, no doubt, by the confidence that came with growing up. That recent, unspoken shift in Jake's behavior told me becoming sixteen gave him expectations. Sixteen means adulthood, at least to Jacob, who spent countless waking hours perfecting the VW Rabbit he found at the local scrap heap. In the three years I'd known him, he'd spoken endlessly of how driving meant freedom. As he approached what he'd wanted for so long, his self-assuredness reached new heights. No longer the insecure eighth grader I'd met when I'd first moved to Forks at age fifteen, Jacob now spent every moment we shared together coming up with excuses to sit closer, to tuck unruly strands of hair behind my ear, to lean in close as he spoke to me. He was just a freshman in high school and still younger than my nearly 18 years, but in his mind, we were finally sharing the same playing field. I just didn't know if I wanted in on the game.

Jacob Black had been my best friend since I move to Forks, Washington, to live with my father the summer before I entered the tenth grade. His father, Billy, and mine, Charlie, had been friends for years. Naturally, Jake and I often found ourselves sharing dinners over the fish they'd caught on their weekly fishing trips; we became friends instantly. Soon, we were spending nearly every second of free time together, with the bulk of our after-school hours spent joking around in Jacob's garage, the site of his many pet projects, including his prized VW.

He wasn't like the kids I went to school with; Jake was interesting, unassuming, and full of life. He made my dull world bearable, except for the pangs of guilt I felt over the poorly concealed crush he had on me. Still, to me, he was a kid. Part of what I adored about him was how he was forever bouncing off the walls with the unbridled enthusiasm of a five-year-old building up a sugar rush on Christmas morning. I, on the other hand, was a middle-aged woman trapped in a teenager's body, conditioned from being the only child of my mother Renee, a teenager trapped inside of a 38-year-old. In that relationship, until she married Phil three years ago, I took care of her, not minding the responsibility because it made me feel needed. With Jake, I enjoyed the similar way he needed me; it just felt right that I took care of him. In turn, he kept at bay the loneliness that followed me my entire life.

Jacob and I were perfect in our current platonic state; anything more could easily disturb the status quo that I held so dear. But he wanted more. Everyday, he awaited my arrival on the stoop of the small house he shared with his father. As the days wore on, his expression grew into a confirmation that he would no longer sit idly by and let me see him as a child.

I brought my truck to a stop and slowly rose from the driver's seat. Despite my worries over the status of our friendship, I felt relaxed now that I was in Jacob's company.

"Bells!" he exclaimed as he encircled me into one of his patented bone-crushing hugs. More and more frequently, few seconds passed where Jake didn't come up with some excuse for physical contact. Thank god he was so skinny and only a few inches taller than me, or else I'd have a hard time explaining to the ER doctors how I'd fractured my ribs.

I handed him the small package I'd wrapped in newsprint. "Happy birthday!" He gaped at me as if he'd actually expected me to arrive empty handed.

"You didn't have to get me anything."

"Yes, I did, liar. Sorry about the wrapping; Charlie never has anything festive lying around the house."

He winked in response, moving closer to my side. "I'll forgive you this time." He wasted no time in beginning his less-than-subtle flirting, shooting me a smile buried in subtext. I looked away, still unsure as to how I should respond.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me. A little too loudly, I urged, "C'mon, open it!" For reasons other than the unspoken tension between Jake and me, I was anxious. I hoped to get a summer job once school let out, but that was still a month away. As it stood, I had limited funds to spend on the gift, so I'd improvised. Now I questioned my choice.

His laugh washed over me immediately. "A rabbit's foot key chain?"

I suddenly felt like a moron, a rare feeling when in Jacob's presence. "You know, because you're restoring a Rabbit…"

Wrapping his arm around me, he replied, "Yeah, I get it. Geez, Bella, you crack me up!"

"You know I am completely broke, or I would've gone all out. I'm sorry. At least it's not pink."

"Stop apologizing! I love it!" I knew he meant it; Jacob was almost as poor a liar as I was. "Seriously, you didn't have to get me a gift. Just you being here is enough." He paused. In a husky voice that was still new to me, he continued, "You know, Bella, I've been think--"

I scrambled to find words of my own before he could continue. "Wait, there's more!" I exclaimed, pulling the card out of my pocket as if performing a magic trick.

He seemed a bit shaken by my interruption but also curious. Ceremoniously, he opened the envelope. "No way!" It was as if I'd given him a check for a million dollars rather than a handmade coupon for a free Bella Swan-cooked lasagna dinner. "I'm going to make copies of this so I can cash this in every week!"

Before my smile could widen any more, he tightened his grip on me and pulled me so close that I was practically in his lap.

"This is so cool, Bella. Thank you." His tone became serious again, and I was suddenly aware that our faces were inches apart, so close I could count his eyelashes. A knot turned in my stomach. I knew exactly what was on his mind. _Please don't kiss me_, I silently begged as he began to lean his head in even closer to mine. Soon I would be able to _feel_ his eyelashes. I had never kissed anyone, at least not romantically, and I was clueless as to whether I wanted to destroy a friendship to share a first kiss with someone I wasn't even sure I was attracted to.

The words flew out of my mouth before I realized they belonged to me. "Jake, I don't think this is a good idea."

His eyes were half closed as he responded, "We'll see."

Before I could reply, his lips were firmly pressed against mine, his hands spanning my back. At that moment, the words "kid" and "Jacob" stopped belonging in the same sentence. I kissed him back hesitantly, realizing that neither of us had ever done this before. I worried that I would somehow be bad at it, even though Jake's inexperience seemed to have no impact on his confidence or ability. He was unabashedly passionate, moving his hands from my back to my neck and then to my face. His tongue unapologetically crept its way into my mouth, and I had no idea what I should be doing in return. It felt good, great even, but my brain was reeling with what this would mean as soon as our lips parted.

I made every effort to silence my internal nagging; Jake, after all, was amazing. Being with him was the easiest thing I'd ever experienced. For years, he'd been the shoulder I'd cried on when everywhere else in the world seemed cold and dull, and now he kissed as if he was trying to meld his body and mine into one. He loved me. He must.

As the child of parents who divorced before I could remember, I was well-versed in self-reliance. I told myself I needed no one, yet I knew it was a lie, I knew I needed Jacob. He was everything to me. My entire life, I'd told myself that not every love has to fade like my parents' had. Nor does every love have to be all-consuming, passion without reason. As Jacob's lips continued to pour over mine, I realized that what we had could really turn into _something_. I owed it to myself, and to Jake, to find out exactly what that something could be. I moved my hands to his face and gave him everything I had. He was my best friend, my world. Quite possibly, I was crazy to think I belonged with anyone but him.

**Chapter One End Notes: **

I realize that Jacob turning 16 should happen later than the end of his freshman year of high school, but I can't get past an almost-18 Bella going out with 15-year-old. Also, I am not the biggest fan of Jacob Black because of the events in _Eclipse_, so I have tough time writing his and Bella's love story. I hope that's not too painfully obvious. Hope you enjoyed it; things are about to get interesting. Thanks for reading!


	2. First Day

**Chapter Notes: **This chapter was so much fun to write, which is why I am updating again already. Plus, leaving chapter one makes me feel like Jacob is winning, and I hate that feeling. Please continue to keep in mind this is my very first fanfic; I am in virgin territory, so don't throw things at me.

**CHAPTER TWO: First Day**

The morning I was to officially become a high school senior, I woke up late to a typical Forks overcast sky, silently regretting staying out until nearly midnight with Jacob the night before. Four months had passed since our fateful kiss the day of his sixteenth birthday. My concerns about our relationship falling apart were unfounded; instead, I was more immersed with Jacob Black than ever. I was in love with him, although it felt differently than I thought it would. It had come slowly, not the overwhelming struck-by-lightening sensation I had always thought love would be. Instead, my feelings for Jake were solid and blissfully constant. I trusted him completely.

He begged me to stay out even later last night, but I explained that Charlie would worry, even though I was the one who was really concerned. How would I ever concentrate on schoolwork with Jake pulling me out of my comfort zone, convincing me to swim in the dark waters around the reservation and stay out until the middle of the night? Being with him was all I did the entire summer; I even gave up my plans for a summer job to avoid interrupting my time with him. And it was worth it. I felt proud of myself, a bookworm who enjoys more than her healthy dose of solitude, for not bristling under the constant companionship of someone else. Then again, Jake wasn't just anyone.

Sighing, I pulled off the covers and rushed into the bathroom in an attempt to minimize the dark circles that were no doubt forming under my eyes. The mirror confirmed that I looked exhausted, but even though it was the first day of school, I wasn't worried about impressing anyone. On the plus side, I had spent most of the summer outdoors and had the faintest hint of a tan, which was a miracle for anyone in Forks, let alone a near-albino like me.

Minutes later, I bounded out the door and quickly climbed into my ancient truck, nearly tripping over the doorjamb. As I approached the high school, I couldn't help but wish Jake were with me and not at his own school in La Push. He was the only person I felt any connection to, the only person able to scratch under the surface to see who I really was. With the return of the school year, I now had to spend my days in emotional solitude.

My truck turned into the parking lot, passing a shiny silver Volvo that shamed every other vehicle in sight. I'd heard Lauren, my least favorite acquaintance, had done some modeling over the summer and wondered if she acquired it with her earnings. Still, she wasn't _that _attractive. Nonetheless, I parked as far away as possible.

"Bella!" Mike Newton's voice shot in my direction from across the parking lot. "Wait up!"

He was out of breath as he reached my side. I had avoided him, and pretty much anything that didn't involve Jacob, for most of the summer, but from the look in his eyes, he still enjoyed my company a bit too much. Apparently, since I was the only person at Forks High School who hadn't witnessed him wet his pants in the fourth grade, I registered high on his radar. "How was your summer, Mike?"

"Oh, you know, good. I played a lot of ball with Tyler and Ben, worked in my dad's store. The usual. What did you do? I hardly saw you." His tone was accusing.

"I spent a lot of time in La Push, on the Quileute reservation." Thinking that I might as well curb Mike's affections as early in the school year as possible, I added, "I'm actually dating Jacob Black now."

"Oh." Predictably, Mike's face fell. "I remember him. Isn't he, like, a freshman?" Typical Mike.

"A sophomore, actually. Anyway, he's really mature for his age." I wouldn't necessarily categorize Jake as mature, or immature for that matter, but it made more sense to say that than explain that Jake was the ying to my yang. "So, whose Volvo is that? It's so new, it even shines in Forks, the land without sun."

My attempt at humor fell flat, as Mike was still brooding. "Oh, some new kid's. There's a new doctor at the hospital, and I guess he likes to help out 'troubled youth' or whatever. He has, like, a half dozen teenage foster kids. I think some of them are starting today."

I vaguely recalled Charlie saying something similar during dinner a month or so ago. "Still, new blood. That's always good, right?" Hopefully, Mike would take the hint and develop an intense infatuation on one of the troubled youths.

As we walked into the school, he glanced over my shoulder at the unmemorized class schedule I held in my hand. "Looks like I'll see you at lunch," he mumbled, heading towards his locker.

"See ya, Mike." I looked down at my schedule to double check my first class of the day and headed to Spanish.

Distracted in my hopes for a seat near the back of the classroom, I nearly jumped out of my skin as I pushed open the door and collided with a tiny but rigid figure. She stood nearly half a foot shorter than my five feet four inches, and her skin was like snow.

"Pardon me," she murmured, her voice detached yet melodic.

My mouth mumbled something along the lines of "my fault." I felt hideous just by being in the same room as her; her face and the way she carried herself were supernaturally faultless. She sat herself gracefully in a chair near the front corner of the classroom. My hopes for discovering a new target for Mike's affections would have lifted had this stranger, presumably one of the new doctor's foster children, not been so standoffish. I knew I was not alone in my observation because as the classroom filled, the two seats bordering the beautiful new student remained empty. This was quite the contrast to my uncomfortable first day at Forks where my new classmates fawned over me, a rare new addition to the sophomore class. Then again, I was plain and decidedly unintimidating, the opposite of the beautiful but distant pixie seated near the door.

Mrs. Goff appeared at the head of the class. Gesturing to the isolated desk in the front corner, she began, "Class, we have a new student with us this year. Why don't we let her introduce herself?" It was odd to hear her speak in English; usually she showed off her mastery of the Spanish language by submitting everyone to the routine torture of her "No English" rule.

The girl's smile did not reach her eyes. "Hello. I am Alice Cullen. My family just moved here from Alaska. I'm very pleased to be here." Her short speech sounded rehearsed. I wondered how many first days she'd suffered through.

Spanish was as insufferable as ever, but most of us spent our time ignoring Mrs. Goff's review of conjugating verbs in the predicate to stare at the back of Alice Cullen's head. Not once did she turn to look anywhere beyond the chalkboard directly in front of her. When class ended, she was the first to rise from her seat. Had anyone been brave enough to approach her, her speed in exiting the room would have made it an impossibility.

The rest of my morning passed without incident. I had yet to see any of the other new student (apparently Alice had a brother of the same age), but I heard plenty about him; unsurprisingly, he and Alice were the talk of the school. By the end of fourth period, my classmates' whispers indicated a consensus that the Cullens were extremely attractive and more than just a little stuck up. Regardless, I was thrilled that after two years, I was no longer the new kid in town. As the bell rang for lunch, I met up with Angela, my only true friend in Forks, in the hall.

"So, what do you think of them?" I asked, as we made our way to the cafeteria. I felt like such a lemming, but I had no choice. My other option was to discuss my summer, which meant talking about Jake. Although Angela was tactful, I had little desire to get into my newfound love life anywhere my gossip-hungry classmates could overhear.

"The Cullens, you mean? I had the boy in my Calculus class this morning. He's gorgeous. I've never seen anyone that good looking in person." She blushed a bit as she spoke. "Not much of a talker though. Jessica tried to approach him, and this guy, I think his name was Edward, totally brushed her off. He just turned the opposite direction and didn't say a word to her. Poor Jess. I mean, guys usually like Jessica, don't they?" Leave it to Angela to sympathize with Jessica, the biggest gossip in Forks. Then again, Angela was always the one to avoid the name-calling and back stabbing that seemed even so prevalent in small towns. "Anyway, maybe he's just shy." By her tone, I could tell even she didn't believe her words.

The cafeteria doors swung open before us. It was then that I saw them. Seated alone at a table were Alice and a boy whose back was to me. Even from behind, I could see that he was likely as breathtakingly beautiful as his sister. Both had the posture of supermodels. To call them supermodels wasn't even accurate; they were so perfect, so poised that they were beyond human. The boy leaned back against his seat, his hands clasped haphazardly behind his head. Even from a seated position, I could tell he was tall. And his hair… it was the most remarkable shade of bronze I'd ever seen. Neither spoke to the other, and despite her disinterest with her surroundings, an attribute that her brother's body language suggested he shared, Alice Cullen still appeared as if she sprung to life directly out of a fairytale. But the boy—I couldn't even see his face, yet I found myself memorizing the slight movement of his upper body as he breathed.

"Bella," I heard Angela whisper gently at my side, "you're staring. Come on, let's get something to eat."

We made our way through the line and sat at our usual table, joined by the ever-persistent Mike, taking the seat directly next to mine, as well as Jessica, Lauren, her ex-boyfriend Tyler, Connor, and Ben. For once, I was eager to listen in on Jessica's latest news.

"So, my mom works at the hospital with Dr. Cullen. We ran into him with wife and kids over the weekend in Port Angeles, so we went up and said hello. They hardly said anything to us at all." She scoffed. "All I found out is that the three oldest ones are headed to Dartmouth this week to start school. I guess they moved from Alaska, where all the kids went to some gifted school. I heard Ms. Cope tell the nurse that they're all geniuses or something. I personally don't think they look all that smart, but whatever--"

At that moment, Alice Cullen lifted her head to look at Jessica from across the room, her dark eyes suggesting the slightest hint of disdain. Tyler laughed. "You better be careful, Jess, she's tiny, but I don't think you could take her."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "It's not like she can hear us all the way over here, idiot. She's probably just a total bitch to everyone."

I failed miserably to stifle a laugh. If Lauren had any self-awareness, she'd recognize the irony in her statement. As the smile faded from my lips, I realized that although my reaction had escaped notice from those at my table, someone else seemed to find interest in my expression. Although he was yards away, it was as if the bronze-haired boy had captured everything, from my inappropriate muffled laugh to the subtext that caused it. He was staring at me intently, his expression unreadable.

For a split second, I could not look away, for it was at that moment I first saw his face. His sister had seemed flawless, but she didn't hold a candle to him. His eyes were impossibly dark, his skin pale like hers, but his features were so stunning that I had the inexplicable desire to reach out and touch them. His eyes pierced mine, and I felt my skin flame as the blood rushed to my face. Immediately, my eyes shifted to the floor. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I usually don't like to be the center of attention, but now I felt as if I could pass out simply from the stare of a single person. Under my eyelashes, I snuck another peek, praying that he wasn't still looking at me. He was. My face must have turned positively purple; it was burning up.

"God, Bella, are you OK?" Leave it to Mike to notice my change in body temperature.

I made my best attempt to shrug off his attention. "Oh, yeah, I just choked a bit on my sandwich. I'm okay now." Though my lies were always transparent, no one here ever noticed; they just thought I was weird.

"Do you want me to get you some water?"

"No, Mike, I'm fine." I held my breath as I glanced back at the Cullens. Thankfully, both stared off in different directions, neither of which was mine.

Jessica continued to ramble on about her discoveries, so I leaned in intently. In barely a whisper, I asked, "What do you know about the boy?" It made no sense to muffle my voice, as there was no chance he could hear me, but I was too shaken to risk any further embarrassment. Still, my face flushed again as I spoke of him.

Jessica sighed. "His name is Edward." She spoke his name as if it were a dirty word. "He seems like a total jerk. That's probably why he's the only one of them that's alone. Not that the rest of them seem any nicer."

"Alone? What do you mean?" I'm sure I missed something in her report while I was trying to avoid passing out from the weight of his stare.

"Geesh, Bella. Weren't you listening? I was just telling everyone the weirdest part about them. Two of the older ones, this blond girl and this really big, tall guy are a _couple_. Even though they _live together_._" _She paused for dramatic effect. "And so are the other girl," she pointed to Alice, "and one of the other ones I met on Saturday. I saw them holding hands when they walked down the street."

I didn't know how to react. "Um, so none of them are really related?"

Apparently, my voice didn't register the shock Jessica had hoped for. Disappointed, she answered, "Well, two of the college-age ones are twins, but the rest of them aren't really brothers and sisters at all."

I shifted in my seat. "But it's cool that their parents took them all in, I guess."

Lauren shook her head, eager to disagree. "Yeah, but have you seen the house they bought? Over by the river? The parents are totally loaded. It's easy to be nice when you have everything."

"Well, in that case, Lauren, you must have nothing at all." It slipped out before the thought even completed its run through my mind. My hand went to my mouth. Awed at myself and feeling terrible, I quickly attempted damage control. "I am so sorry, Lauren. I don't know what's wrong with me today." I meant it. Even though Lauren had made my first two years in Forks hell whenever she and I were in the same room, I rarely thought such cruel things about anyone, even her. I had a sneaking suspicion that Jacob's habit of blurting out the first thing that came to his mind was contagious.

Lauren gathered the remainder of her lunch and stood. Before she spoke, her face made it clear my apology held no weight as far as she was concerned. "Well, Bella, maybe you should start sitting with the Cullens. You deserve each other." With that, she turned in a huff. My eyes followed as she marched out of the cafeteria, her newly short blond hair bouncing with each step.

"I am such an idiot," I said aloud. Yet, everyone at the table, especially Tyler, found my confrontation with Lauren highly amusing. I made a final attempt to silence them. "Stop laughing! That was an awful thing to say!"

They continued to giggle and talk amongst themselves as I returned to my inner turmoil. _What was I doing? Why would I even defend them? I don't even know the Cullens. _

At that moment, the bell rang, and I lifted my face from out of my hands. As I rose, my gift for disaster reared its ugly head. My leg hit the table, sending my open can of Coke pouring into my lap. "Great. Karma," I said as I attempted to dry myself off with the single napkin that remained on the table.

"Do you want me to save you a seat in English?" Angela asked sympathetically. "You should probably run to the bathroom and put some water on that."

I looked over to see Ben, the object of Angela's monstrous yet secret crush, waiting for her a few feet away. I shook my head, answering her in a low voice. "Is Ben in that class?" Her lips twitched as she made a meager attempt to suppress her enthusiasm. "You should really sit with him, Angela, just the two of you. I'll be fine."

Before she could argue with me, I shooed her away and headed toward to bathroom. As I was about to round the corner, my heart began to slam against my ribcage. Against my better judgment, I turned to see Edward Cullen down the hallway at his locker, his indecipherable black eyes focused on me. My face reddened yet again as I scurried into the bathroom.

**Chapter End Notes: **(1)Keep in mind that Bella's schedule is different than in _New Moon _and _Eclipse _because Edward wasn't around to ensure they had classes together. (2) I searched high and low for the name of Bella's Spanish teacher, but I couldn't find it. If he/she does have a name, let me know and I'll fix it (UPDATE: Pursuant to SM's draft of _Midnight Sun_, I now know Mrs. Goff teaches Spanish at Forks high and have made changes accordingly). (3) I know the whole staring across the cafeteria thing isn't very original, but it was the only way that really made sense for them to first see each other without him wanting to drink her blood, so I stuck with it. I'll try to avoid the formula from _Twilight _as much as I can, but sometimes fate just intends certain things to happen regardless. As always, thanks for reading!


	3. English

**CHAPTER THREE: English**

**Chapter Notes**: We all know what has to happen next…

I made my entrance into English one minute late, although it may as well have been one hour, judging by the way everyone stared as I stumbled into the room. I tried to cover the wet spot on my jeans where I had desperately scrubbed to remove any potential Coke-induced stains. I would have wallowed more in my embarrassment had I not noticed that only one vacant seat remained. Toward the back of the classroom, Edward Cullen sat alone in the corner next to a single empty desk.

Thankfully, Edward seemed oblivious to my presence. With Mr. Berty and half the class staring at me, I nervously made my way to the desk to his right. The door swung shut behind me, resulting in a gust of wind that propelled me to my seat. Only in Forks could I get the chills in late August.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Swan," Mr. Berty mused. There had to be a manual that required teachers to say that whenever a student walked in late.

My hands shook as I removed my backpack and settled onto the uncomfortable plastic chair. Against my better judgment, I snuck a glance at Edward. His body language had completely changed. No longer the portrait of indifference, he leaned as far away from me as possible without falling out of his seat. The skin over his knuckles was stretched so tight that it was practically transparent as he gripped the edges of his desk. However, the worst of his disgust was evident in his face. His nostrils were flared, and his eyes narrowed as we made eye contact. He looked away in the flash of a millisecond. I felt like I physically repulsed him.

I wondered if the generic soap from the bathroom had left its scent on me, that somehow the smell was bothering him. I made what I hoped was a subtle attempt to sniff myself. I smelled like strawberry shampoo, just like always. Mr. Berty droned on about the syllabus, but I couldn't process a single sentence. Instead, I focused on creating a barrier between Edward and myself by turning my chair away from him and hiding behind a veil of my hair. I felt claustrophobic in the classroom, by far the tiniest at the school. My face remained hot, and my eyes began to sting as I came to the conclusion that this gorgeous stranger inexplicably loathed me.

The hour wore on, yet Edward's severe posture remained unchanged. Not once did his eyes fall upon me, not that I made a habit of looking at anything but the edge of my notebook. I speculated as to whether every ounce of his concentration was focused on pressing his long white finger tips against the underside of his desk. As the bell rang, springs appeared to launch Edward out of his seat, and he vanished before the high pitched ring of the bell faded from my ears.

Angela rushed to my side immediately. She looked concerned. "What was _that _about?"

Unsure of my voice, I just shook my head.

"Maybe he's just got social problems." Her eyes flickered as she gauged my expression. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with you. I mean, you don't even know him."

For the first time, I realized Mike was also in the class. "It's my fault really, Bella. I tried to save you a seat, but Connor was all weird about sitting next to Edward Cullen, so he took your spot at the last second."

"Don't worry about it." My voice was uneven despite my best efforts to hide the lasting affect Edward's behavior had on me. "Anyway, I like sitting in the back."

"But now you're stuck back there with him for the rest of the year. Maybe you could tell Mr. Berty you can't see and need to sit somewhere else. He can make Connor switch with you."

"Yeah, because Mr. Berty is just _so _accommodating." I forced a smile. As excruciating as my fifty minutes next to Edward had been, I refused to run and hide. Trying to convince myself, I continued, "It's cool, Mike. I'll survive."

"Well, the offer still stands, if you change your mind," he said, heading off to his locker.

Angela walked with me down the hall. She stopped me shortly before we parted ways for our last class of the day. "Hey, are you _sure _you're okay?" she asked me in a low voice.

I couldn't help but feel touched at her concern. "Um, not really… but I just need some time to calm down. I'm just overreacting; I'll be fine."

She smiled at me and offered to call me later. I shrugged off her compassion, knowing that I'd be off in La Push for the night. Angela and I had never been especially close, but we had developed an unspoken pact to help each other survive the politics of high school. She made the time I was forced to spend in Forks bearable.

I entered American History and sunk down as deep as possible into in a seat against the wall. I tried to tune into the impact of the Ice Age on North America, but my hands were still shaking from my bizarre experience with Edward. Even though I had suffered through the social nightmare of being one of the poorer students at my wealthy junior high school in Arizona, never had anyone been so inexplicably mean to me.

To comfort myself, my thoughts turned to Jacob. If anything, he would lift me out of my anxiety and take me to a place where only he and I mattered. It was then that I remembered that I promised to go with him to a bonfire on First Beach this evening. Although his friends were nice enough, my afternoon had left me drained and desperate to be alone with Jacob, with nothing but the familiar scent of the garage to keep us company.

Glaciers seemed to pass before three o'clock arrived. Relieved to leave school behind for La Push, I quickly gathered my things and rushed out of the classroom. Originally, I planned to head to my locker to drop off my unneeded textbooks, but I skidded to a stop as I spotted a now-infamous head of bronze hair engaged in a heated exchange with his sister mere feet away from my destination. Their stances gave off the impression of an argument, yet neither was speaking. Suddenly, his body stiffened. I felt the panic rise yet again in my chest.

I reminded myself that it was him, not me, who was acting ridiculous. What I _should_ have done was walk directly by him with my head held high, to show him that he didn't intimidate me. In reality, I frantically spun around, nearly crashing into an unsuspecting freshman, and staggered off in the opposite direction. Thankfully, today I kept my car keys in my bag instead of on the top shelf of my locker. I flew through the parking lot to my truck with only minimal stumbling and jammed my keys into the ignition.

My flight from the building hadn't been as fast as I thought, as I couldn't help but notice the silver Volvo had already disappeared. I berated myself for the observation. Still, I had to admit I was incapable of distraction. I had no idea why Edward Cullen despised me, and I wished for nothing more than to never see his stupid, perfect face ever again.

**Chapter End Notes: **This is moving slower than I'd anticipated, but I am enjoying writing it. I know some of you may question why Edward remained at school for the last class when Bella's scent tempted him so, but without going into much detail from his point of view, remember that he goes to the office to attempt to persuade Ms. Cope to change his class schedule. It took more time than expected this time around (I'd explain more, but I'm toying with the idea of doing an Edward POV on this story when I'm finished with this one… if that day ever comes :) Also, I am looking forward to moving this story beyond the "necessary" events from _Twilight _that need to happen for the story to get rolling. I promise you, it's not just going to be _Twilight 2: Senior Year. _


	4. Bonfire

**Chapter 4 Notes: **OK, La Push time. This chapter is a longer, but I had a lot of bases to cover.

**CHAPTER FOUR: Bonfire**

I struggled to retain any composure during the drive to La Push, but it was a losing battle. As the anger boiled up inside of me, I felt the dreaded moisture spill out of my eyelids. Edward Cullen didn't deserve my tears, yet there I was, sobbing uncontrollably. _So he detests me. So what? Maybe I hate him, too. _I certainly hated that he was making me cry.

As hard as I searched for another explanation for Edward Cullen's behavior, I knew I had to be the problem. True, at lunch, he looked at me twice but not with the pure repulsion he sent my direction in English. Even when I first entered the classroom, he seemed perfectly apathetic; it was only until he realized that I was sitting next to him that he appeared revolted by me.

My only theory that even remotely made sense was that he knew I was the police chief's daughter and that somehow made him think less of me. Mike had said Dr. Cullen provided a home for "troubled youths"… Yet, his sister Alice seemed to have no animosity towards me. Maybe he was more deviant than his siblings or had some sort of personal vendetta against local law enforcement. Ultimately, though, I knew it had to be something else, something to do with me, not my father.

I checked my face in the rearview window to make sure I didn't look as if I'd been crying. I wanted Jacob to erase the terribleness of my day, but for reasons I couldn't put my finger on, I didn't want to discuss Edward Cullen with anyone, especially Jake.

"You've been crying." He surprised me at the driver's side window, his face wrinkled with concern. "Do I need to go pummel someone?"

"No, Jake. I just had a rough first day." I climbed out of the truck and into his arms. Resting my head on his shoulder, I said, "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Then we won't." He stroked my hair as we stood there, embracing in silence as the minutes passed by. For the first time since before lunch, my heart returned to a steady pace. Fully trusting my voice, I asked, "So what time is that bonfire?"

He sighed, pulling back ever so slightly to scrutinize my face. "We can skip it. Sam organizes those things every time he's home from school. I'm sure he'll be back Labor Day weekend, so it's no big deal. We can go then."

"No, I want to go tonight." It was the truth; I felt suddenly compelled to surround myself with people who didn't loathe me. "Really!" I nearly chuckled at his skeptical expression.

"We've got an hour or so." He smiled. "What do you want to do to kill the time?" He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

"Teach me to change a tire."

Now both eyebrows lifted to their limit. "What?"

"I'm serious; I need something to distract me. It helps when I learn stuff."

To his credit, he didn't offer to "distract" me in other ways. He just grinned and leaned over to look into the bed of the truck. "Wow, your jack is a thousand years old. I can't believe I never noticed that." Before Charlie bought me the truck for my sixteenth birthday, it belonged to Billy, but Jacob spent the most quality time with it, keeping it alive in its senescent years.

"I can't believe _Charlie _didn't notice that. I mean, you know how he monitors that truck, the second a single snow flake falls, he's out there with the snow chains…" I smiled as I spoke. It was sweet how my father took care of me. Even after two years, I was still getting used to having someone look out for me for a change.

Jake was quickly at work, showing me how to jack up the frame and take off the lug nuts. Soon his laughter warmed me to the core. "No, Bells, you need to turn the hub cap the _other_ way…"

"Glad you find my ineptitude amusing." Although, to be honest, I did too. "What time is it? Shouldn't we be going?"

"Oh! Yeah. What I would I do without you?" He plants his lips against mine. The warmth of his body was inviting, but eventually I pulled away. Immediate guilt followed, but I knew the hour was getting late.

"We have to go, Jake."

"Whatever you say." He darted off inside. His voice drifted out through the open windows. "Do you need to call Charlie or anything?"

"Oh, no. He wouldn't care if I was robbing banks after school, as long as I was with you." Charlie's adoration for Jacob made having my first boyfriend around the house so much easier. "I could use a jacket, though."

He raced out of the door, tossed me a hooded sweatshirt, and jumped into the Rabbit. I followed suit. We sped down to the beach, holding hands the entire way. I babbled on about nothing the entire way there, trying to keep unpleasant memories from earlier in the day at bay.

The sun was beginning to set as we pulled up to the bonfire. The usual crowd was there, Jacob's best friends Quil and Embry, plus Sam Uley and his girlfriend Leah Clearwater, and a few others. Leah's younger brother Seth waved enthusiastically from his spot on a log near the fire.

Kissing my cheek, Jake headed off to undoubtedly stir up trouble with Quil, and I settled down next to Leah. She turned her eyes from watching Sam gather wood for the fire and smiled sweetly in my direction. "How have you been, Bella?"

We shared a certain camaraderie, being the only two girls who frequented these sorts of get-togethers on the beach. "School started today. I'm surviving, I guess." _Barely. _"So how are things with you? Is it tough with Sam back at school again?" Sam was a junior at the University of Washington, where he'd made a name for himself on the swim team. They were forced to part at the end of each summer, since Leah was still in a high school, a senior like myself.

"He actually doesn't go back until Wednesday. But, yeah, it's hard. He's happy there, though. Plus, he comes back as often as he can." Her eyes crinkled as she spoke. "And I visit too, to see him at meets. You should see him swim the 100 meter freestyle, Bella. He's the fastest one out there."

"You must be really proud of him." I knew it was only a matter of time before those two were engaged; they were young, but anyone who didn't know them needed little time to see each worshipped the ground the other walked on. He was quiet yet earnest, she bubbly and full of life. As I watched Leah ogle Sam's backside while he stirred the fire, I couldn't help but wonder what sorts of thoughts people had about Jake and me.

He must have read my mind, as he appeared instantly at my side. "Hey," I smiled, leaning in close and landing a fleeting kiss on his lips.

"Hey yourself. How are you doing?" His tone suggested he hadn't forgotten my face when I'd first driven into his driveway this afternoon.

"I'm good, getting better by the minute… I just," I paused, feeling as if I should tell him the truth about my day. Keeping secrets from him was unnatural. "I just had the _weirdest _experience with this new guy at school."

He furrowed his brow in mock fury. "A guy, huh? Anything I need to worry about?"

"God, no. At least not like that. I think he may have a hit out on me or something." I hoped my anxiety was hidden behind my humor. "He was glaring at me in English like I just stabbed a puppy."

To my relief, Jacob laughed. "Well, you are quite intimidating. I mean, has he seen you on the badminton court yet?" More than anyone else, Jake enjoyed hearing my horrific tales of my gym class experiences.

"Ha ha. No, it was so bizarre, though. I never said a word to him, but…" I shook my head, thankful it was getting dark so he couldn't see my face flush. "He's just a jerk, I guess."

"Yeah, sounds like it. That pummeling offer still stands, you know." It was my turn to laugh. "What?!" He exclaimed. "I'll have you know, I grew almost one and a quarter inches over the summer!"

I shut my eyes and leaned against his shoulder. "I love you, you know."

"Oh, don't worry, I know." I didn't have to open my eyes to know he was grinning.

We continued to lounge by the fire, and soon everyone was teasing Sam and Leah, as they apparently were trying for the world record for longest sucking of face. My smile wore off as I noticed Harry Clearwater, Leah's father, making his way down the beach, his walk unyielding and urgent.

"Seth! Leah!" His voice was a cross between anger and worry. Leah pulled back from Sam immediately, but he snaked his arm around her protectively.

"Dad!" Seth exclaimed, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

Harry's eyes searched the crowd. "You kids didn't tell me you were going out tonight. It's a school night. And it's getting too dark out."

"What, seriously? Dad, it's the first day of school; we don't have any homework." Leah's voice was strained. I knew she was bothered about losing precious time with Sam.

I'd never seen Harry so frantic. "We're going. Now. Get your things." He turned to the rest of us. "Jacob, your dad is looking for you, too. He wants you home, but said you should first make sure Bella gets home safely." He emphasized that last word.

"Uh, okay?" Jake obviously had no clue what was happening either.

Seth and Leah grumbled as they followed their father down the shore. I couldn't understand what was happening. Everyone knew the last precious weeks of summer were prime bonfire season for the kids on the reservation; I'd always come down here with Jake this time of year since moving to Forks. Never once had anyone's parents complained. In fact, I'd heard Billy say he liked it, that it kept up a sense of community. I would have to ask Charlie if there had been any recent crime sprees in La Push…

"Well that was _fun_," Jake mused as we pulled into his driveway. Given Harry Clearwater's behavior, I wasn't surprised to see Billy on the porch, anxiously awaiting our return. "Great," Jake groaned.

"Dad? What's going on?" We made our way up the driveway.

Billy wheeled his chair to the edge of the porch. "You need to follow Bella home, Jacob. Make sure she gets there okay. Walk her inside."

"Why? Is there a serial killer on the loose or something?" The playful sarcasm drained out of Jacob's voice as his father's expression remained fierce.

Billy's eyes flickered to me. Hesitating ever so slightly, he responded, "There've been some bear attacks in the area, close to town. You shouldn't be out by yourselves at night." He turned his severe expression onto me. "Bella, you be careful."

"Um, I will." I had no idea what to say. I opened the door to my truck and climbed in. "I guess I'll race you to my place, Jacob."

He laughed, eying my truck. "No contest, Bells."

"Hurry back, Jacob," Billy called out.

"Sure, sure." He leaned in through the window to kiss my cheek. "I'll be right behind you." Sneaking a peek at his father, Jake continued with a smile, "Lock your doors on the way, though. You know how bears like to target moving vehicles."

I was afraid to laugh, given the fact Billy remained perched at the porch's edge. I started the engine and pulled away, not wanting to look back. Billy was usually so sweet...

The drive to Charlie's house was uneventful, no bears in sight. Keeping his promise, Jacob walked me to the door.

"You have to call me the minute you figure out what's really going on," I insisted.

"Of course." He glowed as I drew him close, brushing his lips with mine.

I made it through the door, greeted by Charlie. "Hey, Bells. Did Jake drive you home? Is something wrong with the truck?" He peered out the window.

"No, it's fine, Dad. Hey, do you know anything about bear attacks in the area?"

He furrowed his brow. "No, why? Did you see something?"

"No, but the strangest thing hap—"

We were interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone. I knew it was too soon for Jake to be calling, and I had no idea who else would call past ten.

Charlie could barely get out a hello; whoever was on the other end of the line was doing all the talking. I listened in intently.

Eventually, Charlie was able to speak, his voice coming out gruff, slightly annoyed. "Of all people, Billy, you should be a little open-minded. It's about time we had a doctor with some real qualifications come into this town." He paused; Billy was obviously disagreeing with him. Charlie's face grew stern. "Well, _I _like to give people the benefit of the doubt instead of lynching every new family that moves to town. Good night." He slammed the phone onto the receiver.

I pretended to be preoccupied with the hem of my shirt as he rounded the corner. "Everything okay, Dad?"

He sighed. "Yes, Bella, everything's fine." I started up the stairs to get ready for bed, turning around as he called out, "Next time you're over at Jake's, check to make sure Billy's taking care of himself, okay? I think he's getting a little paranoid in his old age."

"Sure thing."

I made my way into the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I couldsn't help but think that there was no way my senior year could get any stranger than today.

**Chapter Four End Notes: **To those of you still reading, I love you. Seriously. You reward is coming…


	5. Break

**Chapter Five Notes: **Originally, Chapter Five and Six were combined, but it became a bit epic, so I split up. Beware of the cliffhanger. However, I am not a sadist, so I am updating very, very soon; you won't have to wait long for Chapter Six. Plot-wise, things are picking up (I know, it's about time, right?). Enjoy!

**CHAPTER FIVE: Break**

I spent the entire next morning on edge, looking over my shoulder in the hallway and keeping my ears peeled for his name. Alice never glanced in my direction during Spanish, validating my theory that psychotic tendencies did not seem be a family trait. He, and he alone, found me intolerable.

At lunch, I crept into the cafeteria like I was trying to avoid landmines. I took a deep breath, shot a glance at his table… and he was nowhere in sight. I expected to feel relief, yet my stomach simply fell, the tension remaining, manifesting itself into something I couldn't identify.

When he failed to appear in English, I wondered if he had dropped out of school or ended up in jail somewhere. My uneasiness followed me home that night. I found myself ferociously butchering the onions I only intended to dice. I needed to get a grip. Once Jacob arrived, I placed the raw onion burgers in the fridge and asked him to go on a walk with me.

"Need to blow off some steam before dinner, eh?" he guessed. "This isn't about that nut job from school, is it?"

I rolled my eyes and supplied an indirect answer. "He wasn't there today."

We headed out to the woods that bordered the lawn. Miraculously, the ground was only mildly wet from the morning's brief rainfall. "So, what did you find out? Should we be wary of grizzlies?"

"Oh, that." He purposefully averted his eyes.

"Tell me!" I gave him my sweetest face. "No judgment, I promise."

"First, you have to know my dad's not crazy, I mean not really… He's just so wrapped up with old legends. I don't think he sees things clearly."

"I love your dad, Jake." Billy was a second father to me.

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "There's a new family that moved in out by the Calawah River. Dad and some of the other tribal elders think they're… dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" My heart was in my throat. I knew exactly who just moved to a place near the river.

"He didn't really say." For once, I couldn't tell if he was lying. "He's just basing everything on legends that are, like, a million years old. It's ridiculous."

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, only adding, "I think he's just afraid of change or something. You know how he's always talking about 'the sake of the tribe,' 'the sense of community among the Quileutes.'" Jacob's thoughts seemed far away.

I felt the need to change the subject, despite my intense curiosity. I didn't like to see Jacob upset; insecurity didn't suit him. "So, we're starting _Romeo & Juliet _in English later this week."

"Ugh. Shakespeare. He makes my brain hurt." He let out a welcome laugh, but my spirits sunk ever so slightly; it was my absolute favorite play. Detecting my discomfort, he added, "but it has good parts, too. I mean, the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio had some great fight scenes. We should rent it sometime."

"We could do that." He was so accommodating… I was about to complement him on his open mind when my foot caught on the raised root of a tree. I went flying, landing hard on my right ankle. I knew too much time had passed since I paid one of my ritual visits to the ER.

"Fantastic," I muttered as sharp pains shot up my calf. Jacob knew the drill. He stood at my side and draped my right arm over his shoulder. Together, we made our way out of the forest and headed to his car.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Only a six this time. I would say more than the Fourth of July burn but less than the sledding incident." On our ten-point scale for rating my pain, I'd seen plenty of sixes, but familiarity didn't make my injury any more bearable.

He lovingly stroked the back of my hand during the drive. Unfortunately, it was not enough to distract me from the surging ache that I knew so well; my ankle was most certainly broken. We arrived at the hospital, and he gingerly helped me out of the car.

"Hey, Mrs. Stanley," I called as we approached the front desk.

"It's been a few months, Bella. We were beginning to take bets that you'd fallen under a bus." She had sense of humor her daughter lacked. She smiled warmly at me and handed me the usual paperwork. Jacob excused himself to call Charlie at work, offering to bring me a soda upon his return.

I settled myself onto the crisp paper that covered the examination table. Within minutes, before Jacob could return, the doctor arrived to assess my ankle. He was new, but I knew immediately who he was. I chastised myself for not foreseeing this earlier.

"Hello, Miss Swan," he said with an angel's smile, greeting me without first glancing at my chart. My reputation must have preceded me. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. What seems to be the problem?"

I pointed begrudgingly to my ankle.

He was already paging backward through the biblical tome that was my medical history. "You don't have to say it; I already know." I muttered.

To his credit, he simply smiled, refraining from making any of the numerous jokes available at my expense. As he reached the more recent entries toward front of the file, his smile faded. "How is your head? Did you hit it at all? Any spinning, sudden sleepiness, blackouts?"

"If you're referring to last January, I'm fine." His eyes searched my face in concern. "Really. I didn't hit my head at all this time. It's just the ankle." I shuddered at the memory, hoping he wouldn't probe further.

He shined a light into my eyes regardless but gratefully did not ask any questions. "Everything seems fine." His voice slid through the air like butter. I knew he and his children weren't related, now obvious due to his youthful appearance, but they shared the same intimidating beauty.

Dr. Cullen moved to my ankle, instructing a nurse to wheel me off to X-ray. An hour later, he was fitting me for a cast. "Sorry to say, Bella, but it looks like you're going to be on crutches for a few weeks. It's not too serious of a fracture, but it's broken nonetheless."

"Hey, no gym!" Jacob's enthusiastic voice boomed across the room. He'd been in and out along with Charlie in the short duration since my arrival, but this is the first time he shared the space with Dr. Cullen.

Jacob snuck a peak at the godlike doctor, looking almost guilty. I hoped he didn't feel somehow responsible for his father's inexplicable prejudice.

"Don't worry," Dr. Cullen said gently, "she's going to be just fine." He breezed out of the room, throwing a kind glance in Jacob's direction as he passed through the door.

I opted to ride home with Jake, even though Charlie waited to leave until I was released. In the car, Jacob eventually broke the silence he'd maintained since the exchange with Dr. Cullen. "I feel terrible, Bells." His voice was tinged with sadness. "That doctor, he's the one whose family my dad was talking about. He's completely normal, nice even." He rolled his eyes. "Dangerous… Yeah, right."

"Don't blame yourself, Jake. You can't feel guilty for something you have nothing to do with." He beamed at me, yet remained quiet for the duration of the drive. _Thank god he doesn't know Dr. Cullen's son is the 'nut job' from school…_ Part of me questioned whether I should shed light on the connection between the Cullens and my odd experience yesterday, but another part told me I was justified in keeping this from Jacob; I had to protect him, although I wasn't exactly sure what I was protecting him from.

Charlie and Jacob both doted on me for the rest of the evening, a trend that others continued throughout the week at school, Mike Newton especially. As the weekend passed, my ankle continued to throb within the confines of the cast. Monday morning saw only slight improvement.

As he dropped me off at school, Charlie called out, "Don't forget to elevate it whenever you can!" I was unable to drive, so I received curbside chauffeuring from Charlie in the morning and Jacob in the afternoon. Mike kept up the ridiculous coddling by meeting me at the door after fourth period everyday and walking with me through the lunch line, filling my tray for me.

We made our way to the cafeteria, Mike excited about the Monday macaroni special and I very aware that an entire week had passed since I last laid eyes on a certain new addition to the senior class. I braced myself before I noticed Alice Cullen still ate alone at her table near the window.

"How's the macaroni, Mike?" I felt the urge to distract myself, needing to shake the antsy feeling that coursed through my veins.

"Awesome. More cheese than usual. This is the best day." He blissfully chewed on the noodles until Lauren felt the need to tell him he ate like a horse. The ensuing argument took up the entire hour. I felt like I was suffocating.

English could not come soon enough. After days of lengthy build up, Mr. Berty would finally be handing out copies of _Romeo & Juliet _today.

However, when I hobbled my way into the classroom, a substitute teacher sat at Mr. Berty's desk, her eyes already glazed over from a morning of babysitting obnoxious high school students. "You know what this means, don't you?" Mike whispered elatedly. "Free period!"

Connor made some remark to Mike across the room about "fantasy leagues" for whatever sports were going on in the fall, and they immersed themselves in conversation. I settled into my fortress in the back corner, angry that I had nothing to do with myself for the next hour; I carried as little as possible on me due to my cumbersome crutches. I still had three minutes before the period began, but a trip to my locker would be quite a feat and I didn't feel compelled to enlist anyone's help. I glanced over at Angela, envious that she had a paperback to keep her company.

As the clock ticked down to the beginning of class, I suddenly knew exactly what would occupy my mind for the next hour. Just as the bell began to toll, Edward Cullen strode into the room, his eyes immediately reaching mine.

**Chapter End Notes: **I know, I know, it's about friggin' time ;)


	6. Terminal

Chapter Six Notes: And here we go

**Chapter Six Notes: **And here we go.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing _Twilight. _No intent to commit copyright infringement, blah, blah.

.

**CHAPTER SIX: Terminal**

_Crap. _My bruised and beaten body fell apart at the seams. My blood raced to my face, my heart rattled my ribcage, and my mind went completely blank. _Look down, idiot! Look busy! _I rooted through my nearly empty backpack for something, anything. I found a piece of gum in a deteriorating wrapper. I frantically unwrapped it and popped it into my mouth, ignoring the lint that instantly stuck to my tongue. That took half a second. I needed more time, more distractions. I was honestly considering taking out a blank piece of paper and making origami swans for the next hour when it happened.

"So what does the other guy look like?" I'd never heard the voice before, yet I felt as if I had been longing for it, missing it. It was poetic, masculine, hinting at amusement. Surely, I had lost my mind.

_You hate him. Don't respond. Whatever you do, DO NOT look up at him. _My resolve crumbled immediately. His eyes were the color of honey. I couldn't look away. "Whahuh?"

"Your ankle." He gestured as he took his seat next to mine, where I sat looking like a stroke victim on a rollercoaster. _Stop shaking, Bella, please stop shaking_. 

He was perfectly amiable; he was even smiling_. _And, oh lord, it was _devastating_. "I was just making a joke, suggesting you'd injured yourself in some sort of brawl." He examined my face, likely concluding I was mentally challenged. In the confines of the moment, he was correct in his assumption.

Yanking me out of my inner monologue, he continued, "My name is Edward Cullen."

"I know." Apparently my brain on was autopilot, so my mouth defaulted to the stupidest statement possible. Barely recovering, I muttered, "Bella Swan." It was better than grunting "me Bella, you Edward," but not by much.

As the class period began, the substitute scrawled her name in chalk, informing us of what Mike had already surmised: Mr. Berty had the copies of _Romeo & Juliet _with him at home and thus we were free to talk amongst ourselves "using inside voices" for the rest of the period. "As long as you remain in your assigned seats," she lectured. "I need to take attendance. No running around." As it was, I couldn't move without the aid of a forklift, and it had nothing to do with my bum ankle.

He kept his distance, but turned slightly toward me, the rest of the room buzzing with the chatter of our classmates. "So may I ask what happened?"

I was painfully aware of the crimson pallor of my cheeks. I prayed he'd just think it was sunburn; he hadn't lived in Forks long enough to know that was impossible. "A tree and I had a bit of a disagreement." I congratulated myself on forming a coherent sentence.

"Oh, I see." His lips curled up, amused. Immediately, he composed himself, his eyes shifting as if he instantly regretted finding anything I said entertaining. Perhaps this was part of some sort of master plan to destroy me.

After a brief pause, he observed, "You look like you're in pain."

Actually, I always wore this expression while at school, but he didn't need to know that. "It's not that bad." He gazed at me skeptically, as if I was hiding something.

"Seriously, it really doesn't hurt all that much." I felt as if I were under a microscope.

One side of his mouth crept up into a smirk. "Whatever you say."

I made a show of ignoring him by returning to rummaging through my bag. I found more aged bubblegum, removed from its wrapper, sticking to the inside pocket. I began to scrape at it with my fingernails. "You know, I heard that if you put ice on it, it's easier to get out." His melodic voice was smug.

"Thanks, Martha Stewart, I'll keep that in mind."

I snuck a glance in his direction. He appeared thoroughly entertained. "I apologize for wearing on your nerves. I was just trying to pass the time…" He purposefully turned his attention to the front of the room. Despite his casual tone, I noticed he was still gripping the side of his desk as if his life depended on it.

I feared the inevitable awkward silence that was approaching. Grasping at straws, not knowing why I kept talking to him, I asked, "So do you often attend school for one day and then disappear for a week, or is Forks just that terrible?" I dared to glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

Ever so briefly, he raised his eyebrows, slightly cocking his head to the side. "I wasn't feeling well." He watched me attentively. "Why do you ask?"

He obviously wanted to know why I obsessively tracked his absences. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"It sounds to me that you think Forks is 'that terrible.'"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah."

When I didn't continue, he shook his head, his eyes fixated on my face. "Elaborate, please." I'd write him a novel, if that's what he wanted; against my will, I was instantly hypnotized.

"There's not much to do, the sun only shines twice, three times a year max, and ever since I got here, I've spent more time in the emergency room than a stethoscope."

He continued to stare. "You didn't grow up here."

"Um, no. I mostly grew up near Phoenix, California for awhile before that."

"And you're accident prone." Statements, not questions. Edward Cullen seemed uncertain of nothing.

"Terminally."

Again, he seemed engrossed in matters beyond my comprehension. "Hence the ankle." He smiled.

"And the two broken wrists, the walking cast, the third-degree burn, more bruises than I can count, the dislocated shoulder, the coma—" I stopped. Even in my hypnotic state, there was some information I didn't wish to divulge.

"Sounds excruciating." His voice was more than just conversational… something else lingered beneath the surface.

I shrugged. "More so for my parents than for me."

He shifted in his seat. "What do you mean?" He seemed genuinely perplexed; at last uncertainty had fallen upon him.

"It's hard for them…"

He nodded, as if almost desperate for me to go on.

And then, for the first time since it happened, I let myself talk about it. Without looking back, without looking at him, I continued, "Especially the coma." I shuddered at the word. "They thought I was going to die; I think my mom went without eating for a week. She's kind of fragile like that. I wasn't there to watch over her…" My voice trailed off. I was afraid to look at him; I'd gone over the line, been too personal. Yet when I forced my eyes to his, I found him unabashedly fascinated.

"And you worry about them? You were comatose, yet you feel responsible for their pain?" He seemed incredulous.

"I didn't feel anything at the time. Just when I woke up, and still, it was like it was more painful to see the look in their eyes than to actually feel how broken my own body was." I paused, suddenly aware of what I was saying aloud. Backtracking, I murmured, "It's stupid, I know." I flushed. I knew I'd been talking far, far too much.

His voice was quiet, almost as if he were praying. "It's not stupid at all."

I barely heard him; surely he'd said something else. My eyes turned to the front of the classroom, where Mike and Connor bickered like an old married couple as they adjusted their fantasy football rosters. "You call that a fair trade? Look at what I'm willing to give up, and you offer me _that_. Are you insane?" Elsewhere, ordinary conversations continued, others did homework, some appeared to sleep, heads down, earphones dangling down their necks. I felt as if I'd been on a parallel plane, alone with Edward Cullen.

When I turned back to his tantalizing face, he was studying mine. "Could you tell me how it happened? If you don't mind…"

In truth, I did. Yet, given what I had already let slip, I figured I'd go for broke; after all, he hadn't asked if I'd seen a white light or looked down at my body from above, the questions everyone else had thrown at me when I'd finally returned to school. "It was January, icy. I drove to school, and as I got out of my truck, this van was coming at me, out of control, spinning on the ice. It struck me head on."

His expression was pained. "I can't imagine what that must have felt like."

"I can't either. I don't have any memory of it happening." The way he was looking at me gave me a physical reaction. I kept talking to stop myself from thinking about him and what he was doing to me. "The EMTs told my dad that if I hadn't been moving when I was hit, if I had even hesitated for a second, it would have hit me differently; instead of propelling me to the left, I would have been thrown back and crushed between the van and my truck." You'd be dead, they said. Instantaneously dead. My last memory of that day was glancing over my shoulder as I walked towards the school, smiling at the familiar snow chains Charlie had put on my car that morning, just as he had done the winter before. Two weeks passed before I woke up.

For what seemed like the thousandth time in the past forty-five minutes, I trembled.

Nothing escaped his notice. "It wasn't my intention to upset you." He looked out the window behind me, beyond us. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm not upset." I was pouring out my soul to a total stranger, making a complete idiot of myself. But I wasn't upset. At least not yet. Perhaps once I regained coherence, things would be different.

"You survived, though. That's what matters." He seemed to be directing his words inward.

"I guess." The next words slipped out unintentionally; I never even dared to let them cross my thoughts, let alone say them aloud. "But you never really get past that... The feeling that you got a second chance. It's almost as if—"

"As if what?" He was captivated. I wasn't sure if I was hopelessly flattered or excruciatingly uncomfortable.

"Nothing. Forget it." I glanced at the clock. Two minutes. I only had to keep it together for two minutes. Then, I could go collapse into my seat in History and wallow in my humiliation over monopolizing an entire conversation with a total stranger who may or may not abhor me.

He pursed his lips and ran his hand through his thick bronze hair. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't move. And then he spoke suddenly, softly. "Almost as if you'd been given a gift, the gift of time, and now you feel like you have to fill it with something special."

My breath left me. I was too entranced to pray for its return. "Yeah," I choked out. "Something extraordinary."

He stared at his hands, musing wryly, "Impossible expectations."

I sat in stunned silence, utterly mystified over the turn in our conversation. The bell rang then, startling me even though I knew it was coming. Edward rose and quickly, almost supernaturally, strode out the door without a glance in my direction.

I was still frozen as Mike approached my desk and handed me my crutches. "You okay? Bella?"

Shaken, I awoke from my trance. "Yeah, sorry."

As we slowly made our way down the hall, Mike seemed unaware of my frenzied state. "Maybe Berty has the stomach flu. He could be out all week!" He could barely contain his excitement. "Or something life-threatening; he could be out all month. Maybe even longer!"

My stomach turned over at the prospect, for Mr. Berty's terminal illness would certainly be the death of me.


	7. Shakespeare

Chapter Seven Notes: This chapter should seriously be called "Sexual Tension Overkill

**Chapter Seven Notes: **This chapter should seriously be called "Sexual Tension Overkill." I find it somewhat ironic that this title is actually called Shakespeare. I'm sure he's rolling over in his grave as I write this…

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing _Twilight. _Nor do I have any claim on the lines taken from Act I, Scene V of William Shakespeare's _Romeo & Juliet. _No intent to commit copyright infringement, just to butcher the great works in our literary history.

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Shakespeare**

Edward Cullen wreaked havoc on my sleeping habits. Our conversation in English shook me to the core, and as I tried to force myself to sleep later that evening, I could think of nothing but the way his eyes memorized my face as I babbled on endlessly about myself, a subject that was surely of no consequence to him. At first, this made butterflies flutter about my stomach. However, guilt soon swallowed up the butterflies as thoughts of Jacob began to creep into my head. He picked me up that afternoon from school, but I shared nothing about my day, especially my mystifying, heart-stopping tête-à-tête with Edward in English.

Jacob and I never discussed the two weeks I spent unconscious in the ICU. He knew it bothered me to even think of it, so he never broached the topic. Renee told me once that Jake spent every moment he wasn't at school or sleeping hovering about my hospital room, holding one-sided conversations and turning the television to shows he knew I enjoyed. We'd only been friends then, but it didn't change how he'd been there for me. And now I kept secrets from him for no apparent reason… Yet, what was the point in telling him of how I passed the time in English by holding a single, weirdly personal conversation with a total stranger? When I eventually lost consciousness around two in the morning, my heart still felt poignantly heavy.

I woke up at seven with the resolve that Monday had been a fluke; surely, Edward Cullen saw me as a bizarre, emotionally retarded girl he'd go out of his way to avoid. The thought eased my guilt but did not grant me relief from the unfathomable resurgence of butterflies that flurried in my abdomen.

My prediction proved correct, as lunch passed without him casting a single glance in my direction. As I hobbled to English, the pain from my ankle now pushed aside in favor of pangs of anxiety, I held my breath, not knowing whether I hoped for or dreaded Mr. Berty's return. Regardless, there he was, propped wearily against his desk, his nose red but his hands clutching copies of _Romeo & Juliet. _I exhaled and found my seat.

Edward appeared seconds before the bell, and I didn't dare raise my eyes from my desk. He took his seat without making a sound, and I remained in a hunched position, resembling a nervous question mark. As class began, my eyes developed a personality of their own. They drifted aimlessly over to the long white fingers that were folded on the neighboring desk and then, stupidly, they flickered to his face. He seemed to sense it immediately, and, almost as if he had no control over his own movements, he turned slightly. We stared at each other for a fraction of a second before, almost defiantly, he snapped his attention back to the front of the room. On cue, the blood rushed to my face.

I remained a statue for the remainder of the class. As soon as Mr. Berty dismissed us, I shot to my feet, my nervousness over the neighboring desk's occupant overpowering the memory of my fractured ankle. Immediately, I reached to catch myself on the edge of my desk, but something else caught me first. I looked up to find Edward gently grasping my forearm, his eyes wide and apparently surprised by his own reflexes. His touch electrified me, raising goose bumps on my skin. He released me instantaneously.

Backing up a step, he bit his lip and cocked his head. Words seemed to escape him, as he just stared down at me, his expression flashing between dazed confusion and… panic?

I could only guess what my face looked like, but nonetheless, I allowed myself to look up into his wild, conflicted eyes. "Thanks," I murmured.

"Any time." His lips broke into a slight grin. "You know, with your track record, you should be more cautious."

"Yeah, I know. Caution's not really my style, though." Against my better judgment, I found my lips curling up into misguided smile.

His tone grew stern. "Well, it should be."

I didn't realize my jaw was unhinged until I spotted Mike and Angela staring at me from across the room. I made a ridiculous attempt at limping gracefully past Edward Cullen, but I knew that to him, I probably resembled Quasimoto.

I spent my sleepless hours that night reading ahead in _Romeo & Juliet_. Mr. Berty only assigned the first act, but even though I'd read the play more times than I could count, I found it impossible to stop. For years, I'd harbored a schoolgirl crush on Romeo. Even now, reading his lines still made my heart flutter. Eventually, the reality of Edward Cullen and the secrets I kept from Jacob gave way to my imagination, and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

The next day, my mood had noticeably improved from the previous morning; even Charlie commented on the drive to school that I appeared "perky." I scoffed under my breath but knew he meant it as a complement.

At lunch, my good humor continued as I complemented Jessica on her sweater. I instantly regretted it, as she smiled and asked if I had any weekend plans. "Uh, I think Jake and I are seeing some racing movie in Port Angeles. Why?"

"Oh, I wanted to do some shopping, wondered if you'd be interested." Her voice was rushed, as I could tell she suddenly found a new focus in our conversation. "Say, you haven't told me much about him. How long have you two been going out? Isn't it hard going out with someone so… young?"

I knew she didn't mean to be rude, but I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "He's sixteen; it's not like he's in diapers, Jess. Besides, we've been friends forever, so I know him really well." My discomfort grew as I noticed Mike and Lauren had stopped talking and now listened attentively. Knowing it was pointless to continue, I added, "He's really cool, you'd like him."

"I've met him a couple of times, down at the beach. He does seem nice, I guess." Jessica leaned forward intently. "What are you guys going to do next year, when you go off to school?"

"I, um, I don't know. We haven't really talked about it." I reprimanded myself for thinking aloud without censoring first. Lauren and Jessica exchanged knowing looks.

Clearing my throat, I spoke the inevitable truth. "Actually, I can't really afford to go away anywhere, so I'm not really worried." Even I could recognize the disappointment in my voice. I tended to avoid thinking about the future as much as possible. Mostly, I focused on comparing the present with the past. I'd never felt complete until Jake. He made me happy, and there was no guarantee that some university miles away could compete.

I gave Jessica a small smile and rose with my crutches, even though fifteen minutes remained before the bell. "I need to catch up on some reading for English. I'll catch you guys later." My voice rang with false enthusiasm.

The pained journey from the cafeteria to English grew more burdensome as rain began to pound against the hood of my jacket. Miraculously, gravity remained in my favor as I arrived at the door to Mr. Berty's classroom looking like a drowned rat but still in full control of my balance. Sighing with relief, I pushed open the door and felt my heart pound from somewhere in my lower abdomen. Edward sat alone in the dark, buried in what appeared to be the latter half of _Romeo & Juliet. _

"Oh, sorry." I had no idea why I apologized, but it felt appropriate, given the way his eyes bored through me.

He simply shrugged and returned his eyes to the play. Awkwardly, I took my seat next to him and pulled out my own copy, pretending to become engrossed in the fourth act, even though I could barely see without the glow of fluorescent lights that usually poured over my desk.

I needed a substantial distraction from Edward, so I paged ahead to the scene where Juliet drinks the vial of poison. I instantly regretted the decision, as I never successfully made it through her feigned suicide attempt without tearing up. Disgusted with myself, I reflexively slammed my book shut. I was almost grateful for the sudden, searing itch that erupted on my ankle. Reaching into my bag, I grabbed a pencil and maneuvered it between my cast and my skin. When I looked up, Edward was quietly laughing, the play forgotten on his desk.

"Something funny?" I asked through my teeth.

"Just you," he chuckled.

"Glad I could entertain you." I clenched my jaw and picked up my book, rolling my eyes at myself when I realized I had been pretending to study the title page.

"Did you get your reading done?" He was just making conversation, but I felt insulted by the insinuation in his voice.

"Yes. And then some. You?"

"Oh, I've read it before." The bored tone in his voice betrayed him.

"And you don't like it?"

"Not really."

My brow furrowed. "What's wrong with it?" I felt offended, as if I'd written it myself.

"Romeo… he's a little ridiculous, don't you think?" He spoke rhetorically, but I refused to let it slide.

"_Romeo _is fantastic."

He sighed. "He's fickle and irresponsible. One minute, he's chasing after Rosaline, the next he's marrying Juliet. Plus, he fails to think through his plans. Had he learned the art of communication, he would have lived to grow tired of Juliet and force his misguided affections onto some other poor soul."

Other students had begun to pour into the room, but I refused to be distracted. In a hushed voice, I countered, "Romeo is the greatest fantasy in all of literature. He's not fickle, he's romantic, even if he's impossibly unrealistic." I should have shut my mouth, but I couldn't just stand there as someone like Edward Cullen ripped apart my favorite fictional character of all time. "The love he feels for Juliet is totally absurd, but Shakespeare makes it seem real, as if something like that could really happen. In a single second, Romeo loves her unconditionally. It's so powerful that anything else, including Rosaline, becomes obsolete. He's amazing because while you're reading his lines, you believe that irresponsible, instantaneous love is possible… even when it's not."

He arched his eyebrows as I pretended that I wasn't melting into the floor. "Well, I disagree. I think he's a bit of an idiot." Then roving his eyes over my face, he continued, "And aren't you a little young to be so pessimistic?"

I noticed Mr. Berty studying us as we spoke, likely crediting his own teaching prowess for our heated literary debate. "I'm not pessimistic," I murmured defensively, "I just know how the world works." My mind automatically drifted to Renee and Charlie.

"Besides what are you, a hundred years old?" I asked sarcastically, still annoyed. "Aren't _you_ a little young to fault Shakespeare?"

Not answering my question, Edward laughed sardonically under his breath. "A hundred and four actually."

"Hilarious." I turned to the front of the room where Mr. Berty began his discussion of the prologue.

By the time he reached scene five a half hour later, my blood pressure finally returned to normal. I found myself sufficiently distracted by Mr. Berty's insistence that students read his favorite passages out loud; Mike's reluctant portrayal of Juliet's nurse was especially riveting. I was still chuckling to myself when the sound of my name brought me back to a jarring reality. "Miss Swan, Mr. Cullen, since you two share such strong feelings for this play, why don't you read Romeo and Juliet's first scene for us?" 

_ Oh God. _I didn't dare look at Edward, but I was almost certain we wore the same expression of horrified unwillingness.

I heard him sigh before the words began to tumble from his lips. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

I sat motionless before I realized I was supposed to respond. My voice shaking, I stared down at the page before me. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

He delivered his next line with controlled indifference. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

I failed miserably at matching his tone, my words stumbling out in a rush as if I had Tourette's syndrome. "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray — grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." I must have imagined in vein the change in his voice on that last word.

My control improved on my next line. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take." I dared to look at him during the pause he took during the stage direction. I could swear he swallowed ever so slightly as his eyes skimmed the italicized phrase "_Kisses her._"His voice minutely quieter, he continued his line, "Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

Miraculously, I spoke, my voice steady. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

His next lines came out effortlessly, but I didn't dare lift my eyes to his. "Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again." I had to be imagining things, because I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me when he was supposed to be reading.

My face reddened at the repetition of "_Kisses her_" after his last line. Mesmerized, not needing to look down at the words on the page, I responded, "You kiss by the book."

Mr. Berty took the opportunity to provide his thoughts on Shakespeare's prose. As the monotone of his voice filtered through the room, I realized I wasn't breathing. Out of the farthest corner of my eye, I spotted Edward's fingers drumming rapidly against his leg. I refused to move, denying him a chance to see my face, which was likely tinged a deep maroon.

When class ended moments later, we both shot up out of our seats, he elegantly as a reed propelled by the wind and me looking like a one-legged jack rabbit. Predictably, he disappeared before I could feign preoccupation with my own feet. As I gathered up my things, I didn't think of Jacob or guilt or the sleepless night ahead of me; rather, all that rang through my head was the sound of Edward Cullen's voice and the rapid thumping coming from somewhere in my chest.

**Chapter Seven End Notes: **This is the fluffiest thing I've ever written by a mile. Excuse me while I run off to murder a bunny so all is right in the universe…


	8. Missing

Chapter Eight Notes: This is the never-ending chapter, my longest so far

**Chapter Eight Notes: **This is the never-ending chapter, my longest so far. Also, it's a necessary evil to move the story along.

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Missing**

In sixth grade, girls at my junior high school scrawled the names of the boys they liked on their notebooks, usually using red or pink ink and dotting the "i's" with hearts. They giggled incessantly when the object of their affection passed by and blushed if he looked in their direction. In my case, I was a senior in high school, all my pens were blue, and I vehemently opposed girly giggling of any kind. But the blushing… the blushing I was familiar with.

Each time Edward Cullen even crossed my mind, my face flushed. I knew it was normal to have crushes; I'd just never had one on a real person. Actually, I convinced myself that this one wasn't really on Edward at all; it just manifested itself in his direction because of the way his voice captivated me as he uttered the most romantic lines in all of literature. For five brief minutes in English, he'd been Romeo Montague and I an awestruck schoolgirl, staring at his lips as if watching them long enough would cure cancer. And then the damn bell rang, he bolted from the room, and I realized that I was nothing to him. _Which_, I reminded myself, _is at it should be. Just like how, in the real world, he's nothing to you. _

Edward was nothing, and Jacob was everything. That was reality. I was happy in reality. The remaining days of the school week reminded me of that fact, as Jacob continued to wait for me in his Rabbit at the end of the day, a lovable grin on his face at the mere sight of me. Edward, on the other hand, never spoke to me again. I even attempted to be civil on Thursday, mumbling a hello in English, but he didn't respond. I didn't make the same mistake on Friday, and as the day drew to a close, I was fairly certain that couldn't even recognize the sound of his voice had I wanted to.

At three, I eagerly climbed into Jacob's car. Labor Day weekend had officially begun, and Jake and I excitedly discussed the fish fry scheduled for that evening at the Clearwaters' place.

"So, Embry got a hold of some fireworks from one of the seniors at school," he began, eyes flashing, "and I think he's planning some sort of experiment for later on tonight. You know how he loves anything related to fire…"

I laughed. "Make sure we've got the fire department on speed dial, then. I'm rather fond of my eyebrows."

Jacob playfully nudged me as he moved his hand to the gearshift. As we exited the parking lot, my smile faded. A silver Volvo shot out of the student lot to the east and sped past us.

"Wow," Jake murmured breathlessly, "now _that _is a nice car."

"I guess."

"Are you kidding? Bells, that's a S60R! I wonder if it has the six-speed manual transmission…"

I stared out the window and hoped he wouldn't notice the sour expression on my face.

"Whose is that, anyway?"

_Here we go. _"That would be Edward Cullen's car." I braced myself.

"Oh." He smiled sheepishly. "I guess that's what you get when your dad's a doctor."

"That and a horrible personality," I muttered under my breath.

"What?" Jake turned to me, confused. I instantly regretted opening my big mouth.

"He and I don't get along all that well." _And then, once in awhile, I get along with him too well, _I thought ruefully.

I watched uneasily as Jacob mentally connected the dots. "Wait—he's not the new guy from the first day of school is he? The one who made you cry?"

"Uh, yeah, sort of."

Jake's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "And you didn't think of telling me this when I was whining about how it was so unfair of my dad to hate the Cullens? And what do you mean by 'sort of'?"

"It's not a big deal. He's just a little… arrogant sometimes. I was stressed out my first day of class, and I overreacted." I knew Jacob was already plotting Edward Cullen's demise. Jacob wasn't really the overprotective type, but I knew that he wouldn't soon forget the look on my face two weeks ago as I stood in his driveway with a tear-stained face. I needed some sort of damage control, and I was certain that describing the alluring magic of Edward's voice as he read Shakespeare would not do the trick. Finally, making sure I sounded rational, I said, "Look, Jake, it was nothing. Since then, he's been pretty decent to me." _When he's not blatantly ignoring me or annoying the hell out of me._

Jacob bit his lip. "But why didn't you tell me it was him? I mean, you tell me everything." He paused while his expression twisted into wounded confusion. "It's just weird, that's all."

"I guess I didn't think it was important at first. And then with whole thing with your dad, I didn't want to add fuel to the fire, you know?" I stared at the rubber mat at my feet. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. A few moments passed, and then the corners of his lips lifted into a small smile. "Speaking of fire, did I mention that Embry's fireworks are illegal in both Washington _and _Oregon?"

I grinned and grabbed his hand, knowing I was forgiven. I just hoped I deserved it.

I remained secluded in my own thoughts all the way to La Push. Jacob drove straight to the Clearwaters' house, likely motivated out of hunger. I laughed and shook my head at him. "You know, we're not supposed to be here for another two hours. Harry's probably not even home from work yet."

He feigned innocence. "What? I just wanted to help them set up."

"Sure you do."

Our smiles faded as we reached the porch. Through the window, we saw Leah at the kitchen table, her dark hair disheveled, tears streaming down her face. Behind her, her father paced nervously back and forth.

Jacob knocked hesitantly. Seth answered the door, his chubby face glum.

"What's going on?" Jake asked in a hushed voice.

When we didn't follow Seth through the door, he motioned us inside. Leading us into the small but quant living room, he whispered, "Sam's missing. He hasn't called Leah in three days and then he didn't show up this morning at his mom's like he was supposed to."

It wasn't like Sam and Leah to fight, but I had to ask, "Are you sure he's not just avoiding her for some reason, that he's still at school?"

Seth swallowed. "No. I thought so too at first, but Dad just got off the phone with Sam's roommate. Nobody's seen Sam around the dorm since Monday." His young face grew more distressed. "Leah's been freaking out for days, but we all kinda blew her off… I mean, she tends to overreact sometimes."

"Charlie," I choked out. "Has anyone called Charlie?" For once, I didn't regret being the police chief's daughter.

Harry's booming voice sounded from the doorframe. "I just did. He's on his way."

"Is there anything we can do?" Jake sounded as helpless as I felt.

Harry frowned. "I don't know what any of us can do. We need to start a search, but he could be anywhere between here and Seattle."

Leah let out a wail from the kitchen. Harry moved to return to her side, but I cut him off at the door. "I'll go. You should wait for Charlie." I wanted to spare Leah from hearing the blunt observations Charlie usually spouted off while in cop mode.

As I rounded the corner, my stomach tightened at the sight of Leah, her head in her hands, shoulders trembling. I placed my hand lightly on her back. "It's going to be okay, Leah. Charlie will find him. He has connections; he can call the university police department and get them to look for him, too. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding." I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. I had no idea why Sam would run off, and I refused to allow myself to consider any other possibility.

Slowly, she lifted her head. My breath caught as I saw her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, with dark circles evidencing a recent history of sleepless nights, but what really shook me was the faint scab in the center of her lower lip, as if she'd been biting it to keep her worst fears at bay. "Bella, something's wrong. He would _never_ do something like this." Her words came out strained and hoarse. "We talk everyday. And, then on Monday, he said he was sick, like with a fever or something. I h-haven't heard from him since. He'd never not call, unless—" She broke off mid-sentence, clamped her lips shut, and began rocking back and forth.

If it were me, I'd want to be alone, so I gradually backed out of the room. "I'll be right around the corner if you need anything, Leah. Anything at all."

Jacob and I moved to sit on the porch while Harry paced in the yard. None of us spoke, which left me all too aware of the terrified thoughts that raced through my head. I didn't know Sam Uley well, but what I did know of him told me something very, very bad had happened. He would never put Leah through this, not if he could help it. I impulsively grabbed Jake's hand.

I didn't have to say anything; Jake read my thoughts. "I know," he whispered. As if trying to convince himself, he continued, "We'll find him, though."

When the cruiser finally pulled up, we were on our feet immediately. Charlie didn't waste any time; within five minutes, he got the details out of Harry and was on the phone with the station, organizing a statewide search.

"I could drive to the university," Harry offered. "They might need some help. The university police may not know where to look…"

Charlie put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Stay here, with Leah. Seattle PD's getting involved, too, so there are plenty of eyes on the lookout for him near the school."

Harry's eyes shifted over to Jake and me on the stoop. He lowered his voice but underestimated our hearing. "We should send a group to look up north, past Forks, by the river."

Charlie looked confused. "That's not even near the highway. If he was headed to La Push, that's 20, 30 miles out of his way."

"As a precaution." Harry cast another quick, nervous glance at Jake and me.

"If that's what you want, Harry…" I could tell that Charlie was just pacifying him, that he remained just as clueless as I was.

I turned to Jake. "What is he talking about? Why does he keep looking at us like that?"

"Big secret with the tribal elders," Jake murmured humorlessly. "He doesn't want us asking questions."

"Okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "He wants to send a search party over by Dr. Cullen's place."

Surely I hadn't heard him right. "So Harry thinks that the Cullens drove to Seattle, kidnapped all six-foot-four inches of Sam from his dorm room, and are now keeping him tied up in the woods?"

"Well, his theory might involve Sam being chained up in their basement, but, yeah, pretty much." Jacob let out an exasperated sigh.

"So it's not just Billy, then? Do they think the Cullens are mass murderers or something?" I was floored that other people apparently spent time worrying about the Cullens, maybe almost as much as me, even if their worries were galaxies apart from my own. _Edward Cullen, serial killer. Well, he certainly wouldn't have problems luring in his victims… _

"The tribal elders are the only ones who put much stock in it. I don't know why they hate them." He hid his face from me behind his long black hair, but I could tell he was embarrassed. "My dad told me that he'd tell me 'when the time is right.' Whatever that means."

We sat in silence until people started arriving for the long-forgotten fish fry. Soon, as word of Sam's disappearance spread, the Clearwaters' house became headquarters for the various search parties Charlie and the tribal elders dispersed all over Clallam County. Even though Charlie suspected Sam was still somewhere in Seattle, that didn't stop people from feeling the need do something. Jake, Quil, and Embry headed off into the forest to the south of the reservation, and, because crutches weren't wilderness friendly, I stayed behind to fry fish with Sue, Leah's mother.

After the food was prepared and gobbled up, I sat on the couch next to Leah, who kept to herself in a catatonic state except for the handful of times the phone rang. Hours of no news took its toll, and despite my worry, I eventually fell asleep.

I awoke with a start at 4AM, the front door banging open amongst a sea of concerned, rushed voices and a single, anguished moan. My eyes were still unfocused, but I saw a flash of skin as Harry and a few others struggled to carry a large, tan body up the stairs. Next to me, Leah erupted with a cry of "Sam! Sam!"

She sprinted to the hallway. I followed her at a distance and watched as she rushed up the stairs with such desperation that she slipped several times on her way to the second floor landing. Before she could reach the bed on which Sam's shaking, naked body writhed in pain, a hand reached out and slammed the door in her face. The distinct clicking sound of the lock catching sent her into hysterics. Moments passed before Harry emerged, taking his daughter by the arm and practically dragging her down the stairs.

"Sue!" he called for his wife frantically in a voice that left no room for questions. Ignoring Leah as she struggled to escape his grasp, he barked, "Take Leah over to Mrs. Uley's. I called her from the car, let her know you'd be coming. She knows Sam's fine." Sam's violent, blood-curdling screams from above contradicted him, but Harry continued, "Stay over there until I call. Seth's staying over at the Calls' place tonight."

His tone left little room for Sue to argue. She nodded slowly, noticing me for the first time in hours. "Bella, would you mind gathering up some clothes from Leah's bedroom?"

"Sure." I limped up the stairs, past the closed door where panicked voices and the hollow bang of limbs thrashing against the wall sounded from within. Grabbing a bag off a hook on Leah's wall, I opened her dresser and tossed various articles of clothing inside. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Sue had returned with a bag of her own, and Leah remained trapped in her father's arms, her eyes enraged. New to the group was Charlie, sporting a deep gash on his forearm and a disgruntled look on his face.

"Let's go home, Bella." His voice was cold and controlled. I handed the bag to Sue and wordlessly followed my father to the cruiser.

Charlie's expression was so intimidating that we were halfway back to Forks before I opened my mouth. "What happened to you arm? Where was Sam? Were you there when they found him?" I prayed he wouldn't shrug off my questions in the name of some sort of police confidentiality.

He inhaled deeply before he began, "He was in the woods, almost fifty miles from town. We wouldn't have even known he was there if not for the screaming. Some campers in the area heard it and called the park ranger. Dispatch put two and two together and gave me a call."

He glanced at my face, knowing his answer wasn't enough to satisfy me. Keeping his eyes on the road, he continued, "We found him naked as the day he was born, grasping a tree trunk for dear life. Poor kid looked like something was ripping him apart from the inside."

"Why didn't they take him to the hospital, then? Instead of to the Clearwaters'?" I couldn't figure out why Harry would bring Sam to his house when he obviously didn't want Leah nearby.

Charlie's lips drew into a tight line before he spoke. "That was my question, but Harry informed me that it was none of my business… wouldn't even let me drive the kid back to his mother."

I had been soundly asleep less than forty minutes before, but now I was wide awake. "Your arm is bleeding pretty bad, Dad."

"Yeah, well, Sam's got a bit of a temper when he's in pain. Kept struggling with us as we loaded him into the car. I don't think he even knew what he was doing."

I waited in vein for further details. When none came, I leaned over to get a closer look at Charlie's wound. Even in the dark, the cabin of the police cruiser lit only by the reflection of the headlights off of the highway, I could see the gash was actually a series of impossibly deep scratches. "You know, Dad, I'm no doctor, but having seen more than my fair share of flesh wounds, I think you might need stitches."

He groaned, but five minutes later, we pulled into familiar parking lot outside of Forks Community Hospital. "This better be fast," he moaned. I could tell by the way he carried himself through the sliding glass doors that he'd been downplaying his pain.

We endured the predictable "like father, like daughter" jokes from the staff while we waited for a doctor, me propped up by crutches and Charlie grasping his arm and wincing. Because fate refused to let me go more than twelve hours without thinking of Edward, Charlie's attending physician was Dr. Cullen. I practically rolled my eyes when I saw his perfect, smiling face round the corner.

"Chief Swan," he noted as he eyed Charlie's arm, "what have you done to yourself?"

Charlie, forever gruff, responded, "Let's just say, don't cross a Quileute when he's angry."

I couldn't see his face, but Dr. Cullen's jovial voice was tinged with irony. "You know, I do believe I've heard that somewhere before."

**Chapter End Notes: **I know it's a bit soon after the Cullens' arrival for all of this to be happening, but I look at it as Sam should've turned much sooner, given his age, so his body's not wasting any time in adapting to the new vampires in town. Poor guy. Also, this was really difficult for me to write for some reason. Maybe I'm just suffering from Edward withdrawal. Or maybe I can't compose a coherent sentence at one in the morning. As for Edward, we'll see him again soon enough, though, I promise.


	9. College

**CHAPTER NINE: COLLEGE**

DISCLAIMER:I own nothing _Twilight. _Clearly, I'm no Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

"Tell me what you know." I pulled Jacob through the door before he could knock, his fist still poised mid-air.

It was Sunday afternoon. Circumstances beyond our control (sleep for me and chores for Jacob) had kept us apart since Friday, and we hadn't been able to pool our resources to piece together the puzzle of Sam's disappearance.

"Hello to you, too." He brushed my lips with a kiss, and we settled into our standard positions on the couch, me sitting upright at the end with my ankle propped on the coffee table and Jake stretched out with his head resting on my lap.

"So," I urged, "what's the word down in La Push?"

"He's still at the Clearwaters'. I don't think Leah's even allowed home yet. Billy was over there all day yesterday, but he wouldn't tell me a thing. I guess Sam's pretty messed up."

"Ugh." How frustrating; Jake knew as little as I did. "But messed up how? Apparently, he's not bad enough to go to a hospital."

He ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know, Bella… It was the weirdest thing. Billy came home last night…" He searched for the right word. "And I know this sounds so creepy, but it was like he was almost _excited_."

"What? Why would he be excited over something like this?" I was starting to agree with Charlie; maybe Billy was growing senile in his old age.

"No idea. He tells me less and less these days." Jacob stared off into space. I knew him well enough to know that he was on the brink of one of his rare but all-consuming depressive funks. He'd only been down, truly down a handful of times in the years I'd known him, but each time, it grew out of Jake blaming himself for things that were beyond his control, like his older sister Rebecca giving up a college scholarship to elope two years ago or Billy's occasional frustration over being confined to a wheelchair.

I stood up, gently shoving his head off my lap. "Let's go to that movie you wanted to see." He looked up at me, reluctant. "C'mon, Jake, the one with the drag racing. My treat."

A slight grin spread across his face. "Okay, but I'm driving."

Giving him a look, I pointed at my cast. "Duh."

We made our way to Port Angeles, talking more about Sam during the drive. Neither one of us could come up with a plausible theory for why Sam turned up less than an hour away from La Push in the Olympic National Park when his car sat in a parking lot nearly a hundred miles away in Seattle. The movie did little to distract me from my mountain of questions, although it seemed to lift Jake's spirits.

As we walked out of the theater, Jacob was practically dancing with enthusiasm. "Man, I need a new car. Something really fast… and loud."

"Well, if the loud part interests you, you can always borrow my truck."

"The fast part matters, too, Bells, so I don't the truck is really an option." He looked down as we walked to the car. "But money doesn't exactly grow on trees, you know." He was lecturing himself, but I felt the brunt of the message.

Before the drama with Sam had monopolized my thoughts, I'd been volleying back and forth between shaking off Edward Cullen-related fantasies and worrying about my post-high school education. I'd always planned on college, but as the time to make a decision drew near, I found my choices limited, both by economics and by my fear of leaving behind what I had with Jake. I'd never been content until Jacob entered my life, and I knew that separation from him, even in the strict geographical sense, would force me back into a state of emotional isolation.

"You know, you're talking less and less these days," Jake commented as he dropped me off in Charlie's driveway.

"I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all." Now was not the time for this conversation, but, then again, the right time never seemed to present itself. "College stuff."

"Oh." He leaned his head against the headrest. "So what are the plans, anyway?" I knew he'd been thinking about it for awhile, too, likely stressing out about where I'd be while he finished up his last two years of high school.

"I think I need to get a job, Jake. Charlie's not exactly rolling in money, and Renee is barely surviving on her and Phil's income. Did you know that Peninsula College costs almost 2000 a semester? Even if I live at home, that's still 2000 that I don't have." Peninsula was the local community college, my only real option. It was close to Jake and the least expensive thing I could find.

Jacob watched me closely. "So you're not going away?"

I shook my head. His face was a myriad of emotions. Not looking away from the steering wheel, he said, "I always saw you in Seattle, or at least somewhere with supermarkets open past nine."

I placed my hand on his arm, my pale ivory skin contrasting sharply with the russet tone of his. "This is what I want, Jake. I'm _not_ okay with not seeing you everyday." I paused. "My life before you was—" My voice broke off, the memory becoming too vivid. "Well, I was alone, all the time. I can't go back to that."

"We can make it work. Look at— I mean, there are tons of couples who do this all the time." I knew he'd purposefully kept himself from referencing Sam and Leah. "You are so, so smart, Bella. There are scholarships—"

"Shut up, Jacob. I'm staying. I just need money to pay tuition, so I don't end up spending my days on Charlie's couch, eating Ho Hos." I smiled, trying to convince both of us I was making the right decision. The relieved look on his face made believing much easier.

My job hunting began on Tuesday when I cornered Mike in the hallway after lunch. "Hey, are your parents hiring right now?" The Newtons owned the local sporting goods store, one of the few non-fast-food businesses within the Forks city limits.

As we walked into English, I could see the wheels turning in Mike's head. "Are you looking?" He didn't even bother to hide his eagerness. "Because my mom was just talking about cutting back her hours. I could totally put in a good word for you."

I flashed a genuine smile. "That would be so great, Mike. I am in desperate need for some cash."

He perched himself on the desk in front of mine. "Looking to replace the truck, huh?"

I narrowed my eyes at his insinuation. "No, I'm saving up for tuition money for school next year."

"Oh yeah? Where are you headed? I'm thinking of Washington State, but even in-state tuition is pretty steep."

"Um, I'm actually sticking around Forks," I answered him while pretending to examine something on the floor. "Even so, Peninsula is not exactly cheap."

Mike made a face, seeming confused. "Wait, Bella, you're a National Merit Scholar."

"Semifinalist, there's no guarantee." I hated that everyone apparently read the monthly school newsletter as if it contained actual news.

He groaned in response. "Whatever." Echoing Jacob, he added, "Look into scholarships. You know, Washington State—"

"So, if you could say something to your mom about the job, that would be so cool." I cut him off, not feeling compelled to justify my entire future.

He seemed to get it. "Sure, Bella. I'll let you know."

I gave him the warmest smile I could manage under the circumstances. "Thanks." As he turned his back and headed to his desk, my face fell, erasing my expression of feigned chipperness.

"_You're_ going to community college." The voice dripped with skepticism. For once, I didn't even notice his entrance, but of course Edward Cullen would choose today to start speaking to me again.

I was in no mood to engage in our usual yet bizarre banter. "Yes." I hoped that if I didn't elaborate, he would just leave me alone.

"Why?" I still hadn't looked at him and wasn't planning to, but his tone was almost kind. Disbelieving, but kind. Grudgingly, I glanced over. He kept his usual distance, but I was surprised to find him leaning forward in his seat, studying me as if we'd been lifelong friends and I'd just told him I had an incurable disease.

I shifted in discomfort. "Not everyone's parents can be doctors, you know." I met my goal of not sounding cruel but unintentionally came off as pathetic.

"I don't buy it."

"I can't afford anything else. And, besides, I like it here." I had no idea why I continued to engage in these little exchanges with him, yet, as always, I found myself unable to ignore him.

"No, you don't. You hate Forks. Remember? 'It rains all the time, there's nothing to do, et cetera, et cetera.'" His eyebrows were raised, as if daring me to refute him.

I appreciated that he left out the part about my frequent trips to the hospital, but I was still exasperated. "I have a life here. Granted, Forks itself sucks but there are parts of it that aren't so bad." Jacob's face flashed in my mind.

Edward stared at me, still dubious but silent as Mr. Berty began his lecture. I tapped my pencil against my desk the entire class period in an effort to expunge my nervous energy. If it also happened to irritate the hell out of Edward, then that was just an added bonus.

Instead of his usual vanishing act, when class ended, he stood motionless as I fussed with my crutches. Pacing himself with my gimpy speed, he walked with me into the hall. I pretended that I didn't see him, but in truth, the fact that he stood mere feet from me with no intention of running away was all I could think about.

Eventually, once the rest of the class streamed past us, he turned to me and spoke. "You can't stay here just because you're afraid, Bella."

It was the first time he'd ever spoken my name. I hated that I knew that. "I'm not afraid of anything. I'm staying because this is where I'm happy. This is where I belong."

He smirked down at me. "You're staying because you're afraid to take risks." As if speaking against his better judgment, he continued, "You know, you're very intelligent. You have to allow yourself to do something more with your life. Stay here, if that's what you really want… but don't do it because you're scared."

With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered gracefully out of sight. I watched him go. I should have been disturbed that he took such an interest in my life. I _wanted _to be disturbed. But I wasn't. I was angry that he thought I was afraid, but more than anything, I obsessed over the fact that he thought I deserved more. Even if I didn't. Even if "more" didn't exist.

Overnight, I told myself that Edward was out of line in lecturing me on my own future. After all, I, and I alone, knew what I wanted. Edward Cullen didn't know me from Eve. Yet, despite my attempts to conjure up animosity towards him, a small part of me realized that it was very possible that he didn't really hate me at all. The theory delighted me more than it should. As with all Edward-related thoughts, I buried the reaction as deep as possible. This became quite a challenge, for when I entered English the next day, he sat at his desk with an expectant smile on his face. Next to him, lying on my chair, sat an application to Dartmouth College.

**Chapter Nine End Notes: **First,I mean no disrespect for community college! I swear! I just have a problem with Bella choosing it for the wrong reasons. (In turn, Edward is angry with her b/c he knows she doesn't like Forks yet refuses to go elsewhere.) Second, if you have any questions about Peninsula College, it's real and I spent a freakish amount of time learning about its quarterly tuition in order to keep this chapter accurate (because yes, I am that anally retentive). Third, I want to make clear that Jake isn't a selfish jerk for his reaction to Bella's news that she's not going away to school. He wants what's best for her, but he's also sixteen and in love. He desperately wants to believe that she's telling the truth when she says she doesn't want to leave Forks. Finally, a million thanks to those who've reviewed; it's so sad, but I'm finding that other people's kind opinions on this story totally make my day!


	10. Interview

**Chapter Ten Notes: **Back to English class, but we're moving out of the classroom soon enough…

**CHAPTER TEN: Interview**

My mouth hung open as I tried to decide if I was angry or flattered that Edward thought Dartmouth would even consider admitting someone like me. I opted for anger, simply because it was the easier of the two emotions.

"What the hell is this?" I picked up the application and forcefully slammed it down on Edward's desk. It made a distinct slapping sound when it abruptly met the Formica.

His arms remained folded in front of him as his lips curled into an irritatingly dazzling smile. "That would be your ticket out of here. You can thank me later." He picked up the packet of paper, quickly reached his arm across the aisle, and placed it in front of me.

"The tuition alone is more than my parents make in a year. No thanks."

"Suit yourself." He directed his attention to the in-class assignment Mr. Berty was circulating.

I was not in the right mental state for a pop quiz. For the first ten minutes of class, I stared into space, wondering if Edward just wanted to dispose of an extra copy of the application he kept in his locker. He didn't seem the type to go out of his way to help some girl in his English class who he tried his best to ignore.

I forced myself to pay attention to the barely touched essay in front of me. As I described Juliet's tragic flaw, pressing my pen so hard into the paper that it nearly tore, a high-pitched buzz filled my ears.

"Pencils down, people. Looks like someone is playing with the fire alarm." Mr. Berty made no attempt to conceal his sulking over the interruption.

My classmates looked relieved as they excitedly filed out of the classroom. Ahead of me, Angela and Ben were already deep in conversation. I crossed my fingers that one of them would make a move soon; it was obvious to everyone that they liked each other. Mike tagged along next to me. We were certainly no Angela and Ben, but I wasn't sure he knew that. Ever since I'd told him the day before that I wanted to work in his parents' shop, he'd been shadowing me like a starving puppy.

"… so if you want any help prepping for the interview, I can totally come by after school and we can go over strategy." He'd likely been talking to me for several seconds, but I was so preoccupied with keeping my cast dry in the misting rain that I'd tuned him out. I felt guilty that he'd been nice enough to get me a shot at a part-time job, but I didn't want to encourage him, an impossibly easy feat when it came to Mike.

"Actually, Jake and I have plans. I think he's going to drop me by at eight." The interview was later that day, after Mrs. Newton closed up shop.

"Oh. Cool." His lips turned downward as he glanced across the courtyard where Conner and a few others stood in a circle. "Well, if I don't see you, good luck." He shuffled over to the group of our classmates, leaving me alone under the eave of the gymnasium roof.

The fire truck still hadn't arrived, and I was certain that Mr. Berty's quiz was a lost cause. Yards away, Edward stood alone, staring off in the opposite direction. Taking a deep breath, I limped over to him, deciding it was about time I acted like an adult.

Though my approach made plenty of noise, he kept his back turned. I cleared my suddenly tight throat. "Hey."

He took a step backward and turned to face me. "Hello."

I didn't look at him as I spoke. "Look, I'm sorry I was a jerk earlier. You were just trying to help. I overreacted."

"No, you didn't." His voice was almost grave. "It wasn't my place."

Inexplicably, his statement bothered me. I opted to ignore it. "It's just that I don't even have a chance of getting into a school like that. Plus, there's the money issue." I didn't want to know if he was looking at me, so I just kept talking. "And anyway, I would be utterly miserable without—" Stupidly, needlessly, I stopped to correct myself. "Without my family and my friends."

Somewhere during my babbling, our eyes met. He smiled dryly. "Without the boyfriend, you mean."

I nodded, too aware that there were no secrets in Forks. "Yeah."

His words rang with conviction. "If he makes you happy, then you're making the right decision."

I smiled without feeling. I simply could not figure him out. "Thanks."

We stood in silence, watching the light drizzle fall from the sky. I should have walked away, but something compelled me to keep him company. The student body treated Edward and his sister like lepers, and I was fairly sure that even rich, flawlessly beautiful people got lonely once in awhile.

"So, do you miss Alaska?"

His head jerked up in surprise, probably caught off guard that I still hadn't left him alone. "What?"

"You are from Alaska, right?"

He fixed his eyes on me. "Not originally. But, no, I don't miss it at all." His irises were darker today, but not quite the shade of black that told me he wanted nothing to do with me.

"I guess when you have brothers and sisters, moving isn't that bad." I realized he probably wasn't lonely at all, or at least not as much as I'd been when I first came to Forks.

"Usually, each place we leave is fairly identical to the next. After awhile, you don't long for what you left behind."

"Wow. That sounds… awful." I bit my tongue, regretting my inability to censor myself around him. "Sorry, that was rude."

I noticed then how his hands were balled into fists, yet he seemed at ease talking with me. "I think it's not as dull for the rest of my family. I find it taxing at times, but I'm just harder to please, I suppose."

I thought of Jessica's statement in the cafeteria on that fateful first day of classes. _"He seems like a total jerk. That's probably why he's the only one of them that's alone." _Certain that I was headed into forbidden territory, I murmured, "Maybe it's because they have each other. I think it's easier when you have someone, you know?"

I should have thought of Jake then, but I was too nervous about Edward's response; I always blurred the lines with him, getting too personal for a casual conversation between two people who were barely acquaintances.

Edward, however, just pursed his lips and avoided my gaze. In the distance, the fire department had finally arrived.

Eventually, he spoke softly. "I don't usually have a problem being alone."

I was slightly shocked that he answered my question and didn't appear the least bit angry. I took this as a good sign. "I used to think that, too. I'm an only child, so I was alone all the time."

"But not anymore." He slowly exhaled. I knew we'd both come to the same conclusion, but I felt uncomfortable discussing Jacob with Edward.

My philosophy was that Jacob and I existed in our own universe, so it was wrong to bring in outsiders. We knew what we were to each other, and I didn't need to justify that to anyone else, especially Edward.

Minutes had passed, but Edward's words still hung in the air. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just blurted out the truth. "Why is it that every conversation we have is weirder than the last?"

He looked amused at my bewilderment. "Weirder? How so?"

I moved my head so he couldn't see the ruddy shade of pink on my cheeks. "You know what I mean." He never struck me as oblivious. "I talk about the strangest things with you. You must think that I'm insane."

He let out a musical laugh. "Actually, I find you fairly interesting." Leaning against the brick wall behind us, he continued, "I have difficulty reading you."

I scoffed. "Seriously? There's not much to me. I kind of wear my emotions on my sleeve." I hated that about myself, especially in moments like this one. "Anyway, you're the one who is impossible to read."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I disagree. On the contrary, I tend to give too much away."

I groaned. "See, _that _is exactly what I'm talking about."

Edward simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

In spite of myself, I smiled back. Talking to Edward was quite enjoyable, even if he did tend to speak in riddles. Against my better judgment, I wondered if it would be possible for us to become friends… Not close friends, but at least the kind that spoke to each other every once in awhile in the hallway.

His smile faded as he stared at something off in the distance. "I think it's time to go inside."

At some point during our conversation, the fire department apparently declared the fire alarm false. Now, they started to pack up, but plenty of students remained huddled outside, wanting to miss class even if it meant standing in the rain.

Edward started to head off behind one of the outbuildings but paused before he could vanish entirely. "Are you going to be alright with that cast?"

Only then did I notice that the rain had begun to come down in sheets. "Oh please," I scoffed jokingly, "I'm a pro at this."

He raised an eyebrow and flashed a crooked smile. "If that were the case, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place."

I blushed. "I guess that's true. But don't worry, I'll be fine." As I spoke, I felt as if we were being watched. I squinted through the downpour and saw Alice Cullen thirty feet away with her head curiously cocked and an expression of pure fascination on her face.

The interview with Mrs. Newton proved to be a mere formality. When I arrived at the shop, she opened the door looking haggard and beyond grateful to see me.

"Oh, Bella! I am so excited that you're interested." She spoke in a rush as she closed down the cash register. "We've been severely understaffed, but I haven't wanted to hire any of Mike's friends; they're just too rambunctious." She mumbled something along the lines of "boys will be boys" while she locked the drawer.

"I don't have much experience, Mrs. Newton, but I'm a pretty fast learner." I was throwing out every interview cliché in the book and it made me feel like kind of a schmuck, but I was desperate. "Besides, my cast comes off in two weeks, and I'll be able to do a lot more."

She waved her hand, signaling me to stop. "Oh, no worries, dear. You're Charlie Swan's daughter; I have no doubt that you'll be a model employee."

I couldn't think of a response, so I just smiled sheepishly.

"Mike can start training you next week, if you'd like." She put her hands on her hips as her eyes darted around the room, looking for a task she'd missed.

It took me a second before I figured out what she meant. "So I got the job?" I struggled to keep my voice calm.

"If you want it." Mrs. Newton beamed at me while she ran a broom along the entryway.

"Definitely!" I couldn't keep up the cool professional demeanor any longer. "Thank you so much."

"You'll love it here. The clientele is wonderful. We have a lot of regulars, just super guys." She exhaled as she finally sat down on a stool. "They tell the best stories. You'll have to ask Joe about the time he dropped his car keys into Lake Crescent." She laughed at the memory.

In speaking with Mrs. Newton, I understood where Mike got his innate ability to talk up a storm with anyone he met. I grinned at her attempts to persuade me into taking a job I already wanted.

"It sounds great, Mrs. Newton. I do love a good story." Charlie and his friends were always regaling tales of their adventures in the wild; I never thought "chatting up outdoorsy middle-aged men" would be a marketable skill, but now I almost wished I'd listed it on my résumé.

"If you like stories, then you should ask Mark Crowley about his camping trip last weekend. Now that's one of the best ones I've heard in a while." Mrs. Newton shook her head in jest. "He claims that he saw some sort of yeti-like creature in the forest. I think that poor man spends too much time alone in the wilderness, but I have to admit, that story is one for the ages."

"A yeti?"

"Some big hairy thing. Probably just a bear." She flipped the light switch. "So how does next Monday sound for your first day? Four o'clock?"

"Sounds great." I was thrilled about the job, but a part of me was still hung up on Mr. Crowley's yeti.

Mrs. Newton ushered me out of the store, locking the door behind us. As I headed to where Jacob was waiting for me in his car across the street, something in my head clicked.

I pushed my crutches to full speed and excitedly pulled open the passenger door. Jake beamed at me as I shoved my crutches into the tiny backseat. "So did you get it?"

"Oh, yeah." My voice held little of the excitement it had inside the store; I was no longer interested in repeating my good fortune, for the wildest theory dominated my thoughts. It was time to test my hypothesis. "Jake," I asked hurriedly, "do you believe in Big Foot?"

"What?" He burst out laughing. "What kind of interview questions did she ask you in there?"

"I'm serious." I knew how ridiculous I sounded, but the circumstances surrounding Sam's disappearance were just as ludicrous, so there was certainly leeway for the absurd.

"No, Bella, I do not believe in Big Foot." He struggled to keep a straight face.

"Look, Jake, I can't come up with a reasonable explanation for what happened to Sam. The whole thing with his car never leaving Seattle, him screaming in the woods for no real reason… Maybe something crazy is the only explanation."

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Calm down there, Scrappy Doo." I scowled, but he continued, "The thing with Sam is definitely weird, but maybe he just lost it. He was stressed with classes and the beginning of the swim season, and, if I know Leah, she's probably been nagging him about marriage. I bet he just went nuts, starting hitchhiking back to the rez, and then just had a mental breakdown in the woods."

Folding my arms in front of me, I huffed, "Big Foot has been sighted all over the U.S. It could happen."

He started the engine and nodded. "Sure, sure."

I knew I was needlessly obsessed over the brief disappearance of a mere acquaintance, but if I had to choose between losing sleep over Edward Cullen and the mystery of Sam Uley, for the sake of my sanity, I'd pick Sam any day.

**Chapter Ten End Notes: **I hope this wasn't one cryptic Bella/Edward conversation too many, but I need to lay a foundation for certain events down the road. Edward and Bella need to get to know each other first, so that's my current plan. I promise, more action is coming up, but it wouldn't be believable if certain events happened out of nowhere. Thanks again for the reviews and for sticking by this story!


	11. Birthday Girl

**Chapter Eleven Notes: **Finally, we reach an actual event from _New Moon_, Bella's birthday. It makes me sad to think of what happened in this week in the actual story, but in this story, it will be much less depressing. This chapter and Chapter 12 set up Chapter 13, my favorite chapter to write so far. Chapter 11 and 12 were originally joined as one chapter, but it was literally twice as long as all my other chapters, so I split 'em up. Don't worry, Chapter 12 will be up in a flash. I wrote this while on my death bed (I'm super sick), so I hope it makes sense!

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Birthday Girl**

I woke up from a dreamless slumber to the sound of thunder crashing overhead. Rolling over, I saw the usual red glow that streamed from the digits on my alarm clock was replaced with darkness. I groaned. Nothing said "happy birthday" like a thunderstorm and a power outage.

Stumbling down the stairs in the dark, I dug through the drawer next to the stove for matches. I lit the candle that sat above the kitchen sink, trying to ignore the irony. I knew, however, that at some point during the day, I'd be seeing more candles and probably a cake. The thought made me roll my eyes; I didn't even like cake.

I grabbed a snack from the fridge and poured myself a glass of water. Judging by the color of the sky, it was still the middle of the night. I decide not to bother to figure out the exact time; if I overslept, perhaps I could avoid the entire day. With the dim light off of the candle guiding my path, I went back to bed allowing myself to hope.

My dreams were dashed when my father charged into my room hours later. "Happy birthday, Bells!"

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhh" was the only sound that drifted out from beneath my pillow.

"You're eighteen, kid. Time to be an adult. C'mon, out of bed."

I glared at him from the small peephole I'd made between the pillow and the mattress. As my vision adjusted to the light, I saw that he came bearing gifts.

"If I let you take the presents back, can I just stay in bed all day?" I knew my attempt at bargaining was a fool's errand.

He sat two brightly wrapped objects on corner of my bed. "You can open them now, if you want."

I didn't, but I also wanted to spare Charlie from my perpetual birthday grouchiness. Propping myself up on my elbow, I wordlessly tore the wrapping off the flatter of the two boxes.

"That one's from your mom, but my present kind of goes along with it too." He seemed excited, so I pasted a smile on my face.

"A scrapbook, cool." Not wasting any time, I ripped open the second. Inside was a camera. "Thanks, Dad. I love it."

He grinned down at me. "I have batteries and film for you downstairs." He gestured to the empty scrapbook on my lap. "Your mom figured you could fill it with the pictures you took. You can show it to her once in awhile. I think it'll help her feel like more a part of your life."

I knew I should have sounded more grateful, but I was still hung over with drowsiness. "I don't see why a book full of pictures of Jake and me hanging out in his garage and watching television is going to make her feel any better."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "You know, Bella, you do have other friends. Maybe you should make more of an effort to spend time with them. There is a world out there beyond Jacob Black."

I rubbed my eyes. "I thought you liked Jake."

His expression softened. "I do, honey, very much in fact, but you two are inseparable. Your mom mentioned that she's worried that you're getting too wrapped up in him to enjoy the rest of your life."

His point was proven by the first thought that popped into my head. _Jake _is_ my life. _"Fine, Dad, I'll be more social." I smiled and gave him a hug to show him I appreciated my gifts.

It was true that I never hung out with anyone aside from Jake and his friends. As I brushed my teeth, I began to mentally list off other, non-La Push company I could spend time with to appease my parents. I did sincerely like Angela; maybe I could talk her into going to a movie over the weekend. I refused to let myself consider the other person from school I wouldn't mind getting to know better. I doubted he ever did anything that even remotely resembled normal teenage shenanigans; instead, I pictured Edward spending his weekends reading _War & Peace_ or buying things that were not for sale.

From below, the front door slammed. I hoped Charlie hadn't forgotten that he had to drive me to school. Grabbing my backpack from off of my desk and my crutches from the floor, I hopped down the stairs. Jacob stood in the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear and holding a brown paper bag. "Happy eighteenth, Bella!"

My face lit up despite myself. "What is this?" Inside the bag was my favorite, a blueberry muffin from the local bakery.

"You know I hate gifts, Jake, but you can never go wrong with food." _Unless, of course, it's cake. _I took a bite and felt my dismal mood brighten. "So are you chauffeuring me this morning?"

"Yeah, I asked your dad yesterday. Hope you don't mind."

I nudged his side. "Yes, I mind terribly because you know how I love to ride around town in a police car." I kissed his cheek. "Thank you so much!" I began to head out the front door to the Rabbit.

"Bella Swan," Jake called after me, "if you think that all I got you for your birthday is a muffin and a ride to school, I am seriously questioning your opinion of me."

I tilted my head back in mock frustration. "More gifts? You know that is not the way to my heart, Jake."

He thrust a small box into my hand. "But I already have your heart, so you're going to have to deal with one little present."

I ignored his smirk and lifted the lid. Inside was a small silver chain. As I lifted it to get a better look, I noticed a small green jewel dangling from the center. "An emerald?" I asked in confusion. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but my birthstone was a sapphire.

"Yeah. It's not real or anything." He shifted his weight nervously. "I know you wouldn't want anything to remind you of the dreaded day of your birth, so I went with an emerald instead. It's the birthstone for May, the month you and me became, you know, _us_." He was blushing. "I know it's kind of corny."

I shook my head. "No, it's really very cool. I love it. Plus, it celebrates you and me and not my birthday, so win-win." I wrapped my arms around his neck and placed my lips on his. I noticed that my neck was strained more than usual. "Hey, did you have a growth spurt or something? You seem taller all of a sudden."

"Two inches in a month. I'm almost six feet now," he boasted.

"Well, well." I met his cocky grin with my own. "Just don't outgrow _me_."

"That," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist, "will never be a problem."

I pinched his cheek. "Okay, giant, we need to go. I'm going to be late, and you're going to be _really _late." We rushed out to the car, and I put on the necklace on the way to school.

I barely made it to Spanish on time. As I pushed open the door, I was surprised to see Alice Cullen watch me closely as I headed to my desk. I wasn't sure if I preferred her sudden attention to her usual indifference. She never spoke a word to me, but the brief seconds her eyes had been on me made me curious. I reprimanded myself instantly. _No, Bella, he is NOT talking about you to his sister. Stop being so self-involved. _Maybe she just liked my new necklace…

I pushed the thought out of my head and focused on forgetting that today was my birthday. I hated being the center of attention and would have successfully avoided any hoopla had it not been for the fact that Mike's birthday was just two days after mine, so, of course, he unfailingly remembered my birthday every year. Today was no exception.

"Hey, birthday girl," he called to me from across the cafeteria at lunch. Several students looked up. _Great._

Jessica's eyes widened. "Why didn't you remind me it was your birthday?"

"I guess I forgot," I replied automatically.

She rolled her eyes. "You did this last year. What's the big deal? It's not like your thirty or something. Eighteen means freedom, right?" Jessica was always excited about something.

"So what? I can vote and buy cigarettes. Jess, I don't like politics and I don't smoke, so there's no reason for making a big deal out of this."

"I just don't get you." She turned her attention to admiring Tyler's new haircut, and I was again reminded of why I didn't socialize with most of my classmates outside of school. Keeping my promise to Charlie would prove to be quite a chore.

As Angela and I walked into English after lunch, I asked her if she had any weekend plans. "I think there are a couple of decent movies out. Interested? We could go Saturday." I prayed she'd say yes or I'd have to resort to Jessica, who always favored syrupy romantic comedies.

However, before Angela could respond, Mike rushed over to where we stood near my desk. "No, no. You guys both have plans already."

Angela and I exchanged confused glances. "We do?" I asked suspiciously.

"In the greatest stroke of luck ever, my parents are going out of town, so I'm throwing myself a birthday party. Saturday night. Possible keg. It's going to be awesome."

"Uh, I don't know, Mike. I don't really drink… Plus, if it gets busted, I'll have to deal with my dad." I was certain that when Charlie suggested expanding my social calendar, he didn't have underage drinking in mind.

Angela seemed hesitant as well. "Yeah, I don't even like beer, Mike."

"Oh, come on, you guys. We're seniors. We're supposed to do stupid stuff like this." Mike looked genuinely disappointed. "You don't even have to drink. Besides, Angela, Ben is going to be there."

She turned red as she darted her eyes over to Ben's desk to make sure he didn't hear Mike's insinuating tone. "Um, maybe, okay?" She bit her lip, clearly conflicted.

Mike now turned to me. "We can make it a joint birthday party, Bella. You and me. I'll even get a cake."

I glared at him. "You know me better than that, Mike. If there's cake, I will definitely not be there."

He exhaled an exasperated sigh. "You can bring what's-his-name with you. It'll be fun, Bella. Lighten up."

To get him off my back, I shrugged. "Maybe, Mike, but I'm not making any promises."

This seemed to placate him. He practically skipped back to his desk, nearly shouting across the room, "Be there around eight, birthday girl."

"Call me 'birthday girl' one more time, and I will cut your tongue out," I muttered indistinctly under my breath. I was extremely grateful he only could call me that once a year; still, he always managed somehow to wear it out.

Without turning my head, I knew Edward was sitting there with some smug look on his face; he always seemed to find my uncomfortable interactions with Mike amusing.

"What?" I asked in a flat voice.

"Oh, I don't know, _birthday girl_," he smirked at my aggravated reaction, "I was just curious as to why you're not in a more festive mood today."

"Birthdays are pointless. It's just another day."

His mouth curved into that crooked smile that I both loathed and secretly adored. "Again with the pessimism. So what are your plans?"

"Work after school. Then, I am going home and watching the 1960s version of _Romeo & Juliet_. And then," I sighed, dreading the final part of the evening, "my father is subjecting me to a birthday dinner at the Lodge." Billy and Jacob were coming as well, but this did not brighten my mood.

"Not a fan of that restaurant? I heard it was one of the better places to dine in the area." I could tell by his tone that he knew that even a good restaurant in Forks was unlikely to rival McDonald's.

I let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, it's great if you like eating overcooked sirloin while the corpse of an elk stares at you from the wall."

He barely succeeded at holding back his grin. "Well, have a good time, then."

"I won't, but thanks anyway." Class had begun, but I wasn't interested in paying attention. I leaned slightly into the aisle. "So what do you do on your birthday, anyway?" My voice was barely a whisper, but of course, just like all of his other features, Edward's hearing was flawless.

"I don't celebrate my birthday," he whispered offhandedly with a shrug.

"Lucky you. Let me know how you convince your parents to go along with that. I could use some tips."

Keeping his eyes on the front of the room, he quietly retorted, "Stop being such a grouch."

He was right, of course, but if it was my birthday, then I could choose to spend it in a prickly mood.

English wound up, followed by History, and soon I found myself at my locker, packing up to spend another afternoon at Newton Outfitters, where Mike was planning a tutorial on fishing rods for today's training session.

This week had been difficult on Jake and me, as it made little sense for him to drive all the way to Forks from La Push to drop me off at work five blocks from school. As a result, Mike was giving me rides each day. I was dreading today's conversation on the way over, likely more pleading regarding his Saturday night kegger. Staring down at my cast, the source of my inconvenience, I rejoiced that I only had two more days until I got a nice, waterproof splint that I could walk on. I wasn't sure if Dr. Snow would give me permission to drive on it, but I hoped that if I didn't ask and he didn't say no, that meant I would soon be behind the wheel of my beloved truck once again.

Just as my mood lifted, Ben and Tyler passed me in the hallway, each wishing me a happy birthday. I could barely contain my displeasure as I responded with a fake smile. As I reached the student lot where Mike's Suburban awaited me, I came to an abrupt stop as Edward passed in front of me en route to his Volvo. Over his shoulder, he threw me a sarcastic grin as he softly said, "Have a nice evening, birthday girl."

"Shut up, Edward." My voice was curt, but I had to bite my tongue to keep my lips from curling up into an involuntary smile.

**Chapter Eleven End Notes: **"Buying things that are not for sale" is my favorite line from _Batman Begins. _Something about Edward reminds me of Bruce Wayne; probably the hotness or the fact that both are loaded. Also, I want to explain Edward's frame of mind right now. I know he's being rather chatty with Bella, but in his mind, he enjoys talking to her and there's no risk because he knows she loves someone else. Plus, he won't admit to himself that he likes her like that; he just sees her as an interesting way to pass the otherwise boring time he's forced to spend in high school. Finally, Bella is especially jerky in this chapter about her birthday… I promise in Chapter 13, her mood will improve for the better. Next chapter is kind of plot intensive (the second half of Bella's birthday, including her dinner at the Lodge), so hope it makes up for not as much happening in this one. Thanks for all your supportive reviews! You guys rock!


	12. The Lodge

**Chapter Twelve Notes: **I am so, so sorry for the delay in this chapter! I know I promised it would be up much sooner, but in the past week, I've dealt with illness, the Illinois Bar Exam, an out-of-town wedding, and moving... Also, there was this book that I just had to read, perhaps you know what I am talking about ;)

**CHAPTER TWELVE: The Lodge**

The only advantage of Mike knowing my birthday was that his mother, my boss, also knew. This resulted in her dismissing me from work early, at 4:30. I called Jake, and he picked me up, knowing better than to accompany his greeting with birthday wishes.

"So, are you excited?" I asked as he carried my things from the car to the house.

"I'm doing my best, Bells."

Jacob had agreed to watch _Romeo & Juliet _with me. It wasn't the newer version, so it lacked the action sequence he enjoyed, but, true to his word, he was giving it his best shot. At first, he asked a few questions and complemented the score, but soon, I could tell his attention was waning. After thirty minutes, I looked down to find his eyes closed and his head resting against my knee. I told myself that I had no right to be disappointed since he was likely tired from waking up early to surprise me with my birthday muffin that morning, but I couldn't help but wish he was awake to distract me during the scene at the ball where Romeo first lays eyes on Juliet.

As Juliet and Romeo kissed for the first time, prefaced by Romeo's utterance of "then have my lips the sin that they have took," my mind was only capable of a single subject. Edward's voice replaced the actor playing Romeo, and my traitor heart thumped rapidly in my chest.

_What is wrong with you? _I told myself I had a crush, and that, as horrible as it was, was somehow alright because a mental fixation was all it would ever be. It would never turn into anything beyond a fast pulse and inappropriate thoughts. I didn't love him; I loved Jacob, the boy who slept soundly at my side. The boy who brought me blueberry muffins and comforted me when I was homesick for my mother. The boy who held my hand when I laid unconscious in a hospital bed for two weeks. The boy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

That last thought frightened me, as I'd never spoke those words aloud to Jake. I would have dwelled on it more, but the digital clock on the DVD player told me we were due at the Lodge for my birthday dinner-slash-torture.

I turned off the television with unnecessary force and woke Jacob with a kiss. We drove to the restaurant in record time, arriving just as Charlie was helping Billy from the cruiser.

"Happy birthday, kiddo," Billy greeted me warmly.

"Thanks, Billy." I honestly didn't mind it from him; Billy and I had a great rapport.

After we were seated, Billy and Charlie chatted about the promise of good fishing weather for the upcoming weekend while Jacob patiently listened to my whining about the restaurant décor. As I rattled on about the ill-advised animal pelt collage hanging near our table, I suddenly remembered something.

"Billy," I asked in my most innocent voice, "how is Sam doing these days? Jake mentioned you'd been helping out over at the Clearwaters' place."

He took a suspiciously long swig of his iced tea before replying, "He's getting better. Poor boy's just under a lot of stress."

I knew it would take more prodding if I wanted to gain any information; Billy was like a vault. "Is he up and walking around yet?"

Billy shrugged. "He's improving."

It took a mountain of self-control to suppress the exasperated sigh that hung in my throat. "Hopefully he can make it back to school before the swim season starts up. Leah was telling me how promising things looked for this season."

Billy eyed Jacob and me, almost as if weighing the pros and cons of his next statement. "Actually, he's not going back to school. It's better that he spend more time on the reservation."

Billy's tone suggested Sam's decision to abandon his education was of little consequence, but he failed to influence the rest of us. Charlie muttered something involving the word "ridiculous" under his breath, and Jacob and I displayed expressions of baffled distress.

"How can you be so calm about this? You practically had a stroke when Rebecca turned down her scholarship!" Jake spoke with his hands, nearly knocking his Coke onto the floor.

Despite his son's outburst, Billy remained stoic. "Sam is not my child, Jacob. His situation is worlds apart from your sister's." His stone facade faltered slightly while staring at Jake, as if the emotion in his eyes alone could reshape his son's opinion.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "This is exactly like what happened with Rebecca, except Sam's got Leah instead of a Samoan surfer. I should have known she'd freak out and make him stay in La Push."

"This has nothing to do with Leah, Jacob. This is about the tribe. Sam knows his influence will really benefit the younger members. We're very blessed to have someone like him around." The sudden pride in his voice was so strong that it inexplicably disturbed me.

Without thinking, I retorted, "He's giving up his entire life. He doesn't have a future in La Push."

Billy's usually kind face hardened into something unrecognizable. "Don't spout off about matters you cannot possibly understand, Bella."

My face flushed, first out of embarrassment over Billy's rebuke and then out of anger. Both emotions ran through me, jumbling my thoughts and rendering me incapable of responding. Thankfully, I didn't have to.

"Now you wait just a minute there, Billy." Charlie's voice was defensive but was not without force. "Bella's right. Sam is giving up quite a lot; he's more than halfway to his degree. Stopping now is a mistake. His mother must be very disappointed."

I knew what Charlie was insinuating. It was Mrs. Uley's place to discuss with her son what was best for him, yet it was possible Charlie was worried that Harry, Billy, and the other tribal elders were influencing Sam. I distinctly recalled Charlie's reaction on the way home from La Push the day of Sam's reappearance. He was bitter as he'd said, "_Harry informed me that it was none of my business… wouldn't even let me drive the kid back to his mother." _

Billy cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving my face. "Besides, there are plenty of opportunities here, Charlie. Just ask Bella."

I wrinkled my brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Billy smiled at me gently. "Jacob was telling me you're looking at Peninsula College for next year."

My stomach lurched. I hadn't discussed my college plans with Charlie yet, and I was clueless as to how he'd respond to my decision to attend community college and live at home. I told myself he'd be happy or at the very least relieved; I knew he enjoyed having me around and the cost was certainly a perk. However, when I glanced over at him, his face told me I was dead wrong.

His skin had turned a menacing shade of maroon. A vein protruded from his forehead that I hadn't seen since I was eleven and I'd accidentally knocked his gun out of its holster. His eyes narrowed and appraised me as if I'd just told him I was pregnant. Not blinking, he lifted his glass of water and downed every last drop, setting it back on the table with unyielding fortitude.

"What?" His voice was even, but it was the kind of neutral tone that deranged killers in movies always used right before they went ballistic.

I waited a second before responding, practically expecting him to flip over the table and stab the nearest member of the wait staff with his steak knife. "Well, Dad, um, Peninsula is very reasonably priced, and I wouldn't have to worry about paying to live in a dorm…" My eyes followed his fist it drifted towards the napkin wrapped around his silverware. Before I could think, I blurted out, "But that's only one option. I'm also sending out an application to Dartmouth."

Without a mirror, it was impossible to tell whose expression was more incredulous, mine or Jacob's. It was true that I hadn't thrown out the Dartmouth application; it sat in the bottom of my backpack for a few days before I'd tossed it into a pile on my desk. Still, I hadn't planned on doing anything with it. The application fee alone was sixty dollars, more than half of what I made in a week at Newton Outfitters. Yet, there I was, lying to my father without a second thought.

The tension lifted from Charlie, traveled across the table, and sunk into Jake. As soon as I spoke, his fist tightened and his breaths became staggered.

Conversely, Charlie lit up with delight. "Bella, that's _wonderful. _I had no idea you'd set your sights so high!"

"Dad, I have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting in. And even if I did win the lottery, I still couldn't cover the tuition." Surely, once reality sunk in, he'd give up hope and grow more comfortable with me spending the next two years at Peninsula.

He shrugged off my remarks, continuing, "There are always loans, Bells. Besides, you're a bright kid, I bet you can get some scholarships."

"Where exactly is Dartmouth?" Jake spoke like a gunshot victim asking a doctor how many hours he had to live.

"Uh, out east." I wanted him to look at me so I could silently communicate that this was all just a ruse to calm Charlie, but Jacob never lifted his gaze from the checkered tablecloth in front of him.

Charlie, painfully unaware, added, "New Hampshire, isn't it, Bells?"

"Yes, thank you, Dad," I responded through gritted teeth.

The waitress arrived at that moment to take our orders. I knew the situation was dire when Jacob ordered a single chicken breast with a side salad; he usually prided himself on polishing off at least two and a half servings at every meal, mostly consisting of large quantities of red meat.

Billy, likely aware of Jacob's anguish, changed the subject. "So, Charlie, how are things going down at the station? Any leads on that meth situation up north?"

Charlie's reply was lost on me, as I couldn't think of anything beyond the haunted expression on Jacob's normally euphoric face. I needed to rectify the situation before this misunderstanding caused him anymore unnecessary pain.

I rose to my feet. "Jake, would you mind helping me to the ladies room? I don't think I should use the crutches in here, what with the tables being so close together and all."

He nodded, still not making eye contact. After we were out of the dining room, I stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at me.

"No more frowning!"

My plea had no affect on him as he scowled in reply. "New Hampshire, Bella? What happened to Peninsula? Hell, I'd learn to deal with Seattle, but _New Hampshire_?! Why not shoot for Europe or Japan? I mean, are you _trying _to run away from me?"

I felt as if he'd slapped me in the face. I should have told him then and there that this was all just subterfuge to keep Charlie's rage in check, but something about Jacob's tone rubbed me the wrong way. He was _angry _with me, and I wasn't entirely sure I deserved that.

"What happened to 'don't worry, Bells, we'll make it work?' You said you wanted what was best for me, and now, all of sudden, you'd 'learn to deal' with Seattle? Just the other day you told me you were fine with any choice I made." I grew more incensed as I spoke. "So, all this time, was it just an act? Like, you wanted to guilt me into staying in Forks forever? Just because you never want to leave doesn't mean that I don't."

For the first time, Jacob met my gaze with an impenetrable glare. "It's not that I never want to leave; I will if I have to. Stop looking at me like I'm putting a leash on you, Bella."

"Sure, you'll leave if you _have _to, but you don't _want _to. Why can't you be supportive? What if I don't want to stay in Washington? Maybe I don't have to go all the way to New Hampshire, but why do I have to stay in this stupid, rainy place forever? We can be together even if I'm not a ten minute drive away, you know."

His jaw locked in place for what seemed like eternity. Finally, he began pacing, speaking while he moved. "I do want what's best for you. But what about what's best for _us_? Huh? Does that even matter at all to you? I can't afford to jump on a plane and come visit you three thousand miles away every weekend. Can't you see how unrealistic this is? How selfish you're being?"

Selfish. The word nearly knocked the wind out of me. Was I being selfish? Part of me didn't care; I'd allowed my life to revolve around Jake for years, even before we decided that we belonged together. I was eighteen years old; how selfless was I supposed to be? Yet, I reminded myself that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Jake. We were a team. I couldn't hurt him like this. I couldn't put myself so far above our relationship that I pushed at its limits. Jacob made bold assumptions by not wanting me any farther than a four-hour drive, but he was probably right. We were an us, and I was throwing that away on a dream I wasn't even certain was mine.

I took a step toward him. Thankfully, he didn't move away. Placing a hand gingerly on his arm, I said, "Of course I care about us. When I look into the future, you're all I see, Jake." His face softened as I continued, "Anyway, this is so pointless. I don't even really plan on applying to Dartmouth. I just said that so Charlie wouldn't have an aneurism."

Relief flooded his expression, and he reached out to rumple my hair. "What? Why would you put me through that, Bells? Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

I had no answer. I'd pulled us into an avoidable argument and had no idea why. "I'm sorry. I guess I just overreacted."

As the wheels began to turn in my head, I realized that I'd naively assumed Jake would follow me into fire if I'd asked; that he'd support any decision I'd make, regardless of how selfish. I'd always told myself I'd do the same for him. Now I understood how ridiculous I'd been. We loved each other, and that love needed both Jake and me to act in the best interest of _us_, even occasionally at the expense of our individual needs.

I thought I'd reconciled the self-centered monster inside of me until Jake spoke again.

"I feel so dumb that I didn't pick up on what you were doing." He rolled his eyes at himself. "I mean, I should have known you of all people would never have flown across the country to go to some fancy school."

I bit my lip out of confusion. "Huh?"

He put his arm around me as we made our way back to the table. "Oh, you know, you're just not the type to do something crazy like that." He stopped himself when he saw me wince. "No, I mean, you're brave and not like a coward or anything, but you don't gamble on things like that. When it comes to making decisions, you're responsible." He shrugged. "You're smart and sensible. I like that about you." Jacob smiled down at me reassuringly. "Plus, you're way too cool for the Ivy League."

Our food awaited us at the table. Neither Billy nor Charlie questioned our extended absence, and we ate in silence.

As I shoved pork loin into my mouth, the word "responsible" echoed in my head and made me feel uneasy. I had always been responsible. All my decisions were well thought out, and most of the time, they were made not out of my own needs but out of the needs of others. I thought back to the day I decided that my mother could no longer stay at home with me while her husband Phil traveled around the country; I'd told her she needed to be happy, that I'd be fine living with Charlie in Forks. I lied, of course, knowing that Forks was not Phoenix, but I did it for her. That was the responsible choice. Now, I was faced with another choice, but I wasn't sure which option was the responsible choice. Did I stay in Forks with Jacob, and if so, was I doing it for me or for him? Did I dare to dream that Dartmouth would want me, and if it did, was I going for me or for my father?

My blood began to boil. Was I living my life for everyone else and never for myself? Was I always playing it safe? Even Jacob seemed to think so, though he found nothing wrong with that. Edward thought so too, and it killed me to think that someone who barely knew me could size me up so accurately.

I'd been so lost in thought that I didn't notice the waiters gathering round for an unenthusiastic performance of "Happy Birthday" until seconds before they opened their mouths. The fake smile that found its way to my mouth didn't convince anyone. Jake patted my hand, whispering, "This was not my idea. I promise, it'll be over before you know it."

It wasn't, but I survived nonetheless. Eventually, the four of us made our way out of the restaurant. Jacob had to take Billy home, so we wouldn't be making the drive back to Charlie's together. We bid our farewells, and I piled into the cruiser with Charlie.

I hoped the ride would pass by in silence, and up until we pulled into the driveway, I thought I was home free. However, as the gravel made crumpling noises under the tires, Charlie swallowed. It caught me off guard, as Charlie was rarely nervous.

We pulled to a stop in front of the garage before he actually spoke. "You know, kid, I'm really proud of you." I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued, "Even if you don't get in, the fact that you tried says something about you. It says that you're not okay with settling, that you know that you deserve something better."

The guilt stewing inside me was almost unbearable. I knew he could see it all over my face. "Dad—"

He held up his hand. "I know what this is about. And you have to know, Bells, that if he loves you, he will learn how to deal with it. This is something you have to do," he turned to face me, "_for you_. Not for him."

"I don't know, Dad." My voice was barely audible, maybe because I did know and I knew I couldn't do it.

We sat quietly in the cruiser for a few moments, neither of us certain how to act. Charlie and I didn't have the sort of relationship where we bared our souls over cups of hot chocolate; the only time we talked about our feelings was when one of us had the flu and the other had to run out to the drugstore to fetch the necessary medicinal remedy.

Finally, Charlie put his hand on the door handle, bracing for a quick escape in case whatever he was about to say didn't go over well. "Bella, you're eighteen. You're not exactly a kid anymore, but that doesn't mean you can't ever do something that you want, something that makes you happy." With that, he opened the door and walked into the house.

I knew then what I had to do, if not for myself, then for Charlie. I'd mail out the application. If Jacob ever found out, he'd be crushed, but part of me wanted to defy him, to prove to myself that I could take risks, even if the risk was minimal. Ultimately, I wouldn't get in so I wouldn't have to make the choice; I wasn't stupid enough to think a school like Dartmouth would ever want to have anything to do with me.

I stared at myself in the rearview mirror. _You know where you belong and what your limits are; it's stupid to want things that are beyond your grasp_. Yet, even as I lectured my reflection, a small, dangerous part of me wanted to believe that there was something else out there for me, something maybe just a bit better than the life I'd always known.

**Chapter Twelve End notes: **I'm not crazy about this chapter, but I was sick of postponing it. Hope you at least tolerated it. I hope to get up Chapter 13 soon, but if things don't work out, I am out of the country next week and may not have internet, so please don't think I forgot about this story! As always, the reviews are so awesome; thank you, thank you, thank you!


	13. Irresponsible

**Chapter Thirteen Notes: **The plot of this chapter is built out of a cliché, underage drinking, but don't worry, it is the foundation for good stuff. Yet again, this chapter turned out to be uber-long, so I'm posting the second half as Chapter 14. It will be up before I leave for vacation this weekend.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Irresponsible**

"I'm telling you, Quil, you're not lighting it right. It's supposed to shoot up a lot higher than that."

"You're an idiot. The fireworks are the problem, not my pyrotechnic skills." Quil smirked, further enraging Embry. "I mean, you know me, _I'm_ a total pro."

It was early Saturday evening. The sun was still setting, but Jacob and his friends were too impatient to wait for it to completely vanish behind the horizon. Sam's disappearance and mysterious reemergence two weeks ago put a damper on their original plans to stage a firework display with Embry's illegal stash of explosives; now the usual crowd, sans Leah and Sam, gathered at First Beach to rectify the situation. At first, expectations were high, but as Quil and Embry bickered, I had a sneaking suspicion that the evening may be a bust.

Jacob sat next to me, absentmindedly twirling a piece of my hair around his index finger. We hadn't discussed my college plans since my birthday dinner, but that didn't mean I'd forgotten his assumption that I was too responsible to take risks when it came to my future. His words ran through my head every couple of hours, taunting me. "_You're just not the type to do something crazy… You're smart and sensible." _Despite his good intentions, Jake made me sound like a golden retriever.

As I stewed in my passive aggressiveness, Jake stood and crossed the beach to offer his expertise to an exasperated Embry. After a few minutes, he was laughing along side Quil as Embry walked off in a melodramatic huff down the shore.

"These things are _terrible. _Embry totally got hosed." He shook his head, chucked a few defective fireworks down the beach, and took up his position at my side. "So, what do you want to do tonight, Bells?"

Normally, I was happy to curl up on the couch and watch campy action movies with Jake and his buddies or just sit on the beach and goof around. Tonight, however, I felt stir crazy and a bit rebellious, which explained why I blurted out, "There's this party over at Mike Newton's. We could make an appearance."

Jake looked at me skeptically. "_You_ want to go to a party at Mike Newton's house?" He grinned as he raised a hand to my forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"We always hang out here, Jake. A change of scenery might be nice." I was irked at his cynicism over my desire to escape my comfort zone, so I defiantly added, "Plus, he's getting a keg."

"We don't drink, Bella." I blanched at his overconfident use of the word "we." He continued to eye me suspiciously as he added, "Why do you want to go hang out with a bunch of people from school that you don't even like to do something that you hate? What's up with you?"

"I don't _know_ that I hate drinking, Jake. The only alcohol I've ever had was a sip of my uncle's Stag beer at Renee and Phil's reception." I was stretching; Jacob was correct that I wasn't a drinker. I'd always thought it was pointless and irresponsible, but tonight I wanted to be immature and take risks. It wasn't exactly in the realm of applying to an Ivy League school, but it was a risk nonetheless. I suddenly felt compelled to make the mistakes teenagers made on after-school specials, if only for one night. It was something that wasn't safe; it was idiotic and reckless, and it proved that in least some small way, Jacob was wrong about me.

"I don't get you, Bella. I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday night than slurping beer from a keg around a bunch of people we hardly know. How about we get a group from the rez together and head to Port Angeles instead, maybe get some dinner and a see a movie?" He scooted closer and stared down at me attentively. "Or it could be just me and you. We could get some pizza and eat on the beach. What do you think?"

"I think I want to go to a party with _my _friends and do something different. For once." I knew I reacted out of bitterness. After all, I'd never called Mike and my other school acquaintances "friends" before, but I felt like Jacob was placating me like I was a petulant child. Also, I couldn't stand how he'd never left the twenty-mile radius surrounding La Push and never wanted to, yet _I _was the one was playing it safe.

"What is wrong with you tonight? Why are you picking a fight with me?" Jake looked more wounded than angry.

I sighed. I was picking a fight, but I had my reasons. In the most even tone I could manage, I explained, "Look, I like hanging out with your friends, but that's all we ever do. Charlie's worried about me because he thinks I'm too wrapped up with you, that I don't have my own life."

Missing the point, Jacob sarcastically rebutted, "Yeah, you're right, Bella. I'm sure Charlie would be much happier that you go and get trashed at some party than spend time alone with me." Then, he added the line that sent me over the edge. "This is so unlike you."

My nostrils flared. "Well, you're wrong about that," I responded automatically, fully aware that given my track record, Jacob was right. "And even if it's not something I normally do, so what? There's nothing wrong with trying something new."

I stood and began to walk up the hill to my truck, congratulating myself on not asking Dr. Snow if I could drive now that my cast and crutches were replaced with a removable brace I could walk on. His silence meant yes, at least to Charlie, who hadn't asked any questions when I took off for school on Friday morning without waiting for him to offer me a ride.

Because I wasn't exactly a speed demon with the brace squeezing my ankle into place, Jacob caught up to me without much effort. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Whatever this is really about, you can tell me. We can talk through this," he pleaded. "You don't have to run off and drink a bunch of cheap beer just to piss me off."

"Oh, so this is about you?" My voice was so accusatory that I barely recognized it. "The only reason I want to spend time doing anything out of the ordinary is because I want upset _you_? Jake, this is about _me_." Not until I said it did I realize it was true. This wasn't about Jacob as much as it was about me proving something to myself, that I could take a chance, even on something as ridiculous as a night of binge drinking.

Folding his arms, he mockingly gestured for me to pass. "Go ahead, Bella, have a great time."

Ignoring his derision, I stomped past him, never looking back. I pushed my truck to its internal speed limit on the way back to Forks. Only until I approached Charlie's house did I slow down. I flung myself out of the driver's seat and headed straight toward the phone in the kitchen.

After four rings, she picked up. "Angela?" Hopefully, she didn't notice I was out of breath. "Are you going to Mike's party tonight?"

"Uh, I don't think so, Bella." Her father was a minister, but I crossed my fingers that Angela would ignore this fact in the interest of spending time with Ben in a non-school setting. "Why? Are you?" She sounded surprised; I was getting sick of that reaction.

"Yes. We could go together, if you want. I mean, you don't have to drink; I'd just like the company." With Angela as my date, at least I'd have a buffer against Mike's inevitable advances, and, despite the show I'd just put on in front of Jacob, I was a little nervous; I wasn't exactly a party person. I waited with baited breath as she mulled over my offer.

"Okay," she finally answered, "I'll go. But I really feel weird about this, Bella. I don't like drinking."

Twenty minutes later, I scribbled a note to Charlie, telling him the half-truth that I was out with Angela, and I bolted from the house to where Angela was waiting in her car. I greeted her with a smile, hoping to ease both her nerves and mine. In the end, it wasn't very effective given how we spent the ten minute ride to Mike's in silence.

It was barely after eight when we pulled up, but the party was already in full swing. The weather was unusually accommodating, which resulted in many of my classmates scattering throughout the Newton's sizable lawn. They all held red plastic cups, indicating that Mike's quest for a keg had been successful.

Angela and I gingerly made our way into the house, where Mike spotted us immediately. He looked shocked that we showed.

"Holy crap! You guys made it!" His voice boomed with such enthusiasm that anyone who didn't know better would have thought we rose from the dead to make an appearance. "Let me grab you some cups."

When he returned, Angela declined hers, but I took one, trying to appear confident. "Where's the keg?" My voice squeaked, and I knew my cover was blown.

Mike smiled warmly at me. "Come on, I'll show you how to pump so you don't end up with a glass full of foam."

He started to drag me to the keg, but I hesitated as I looked over my shoulder for Angela. Relief flooded through me as I saw Ben shyly approach her. I couldn't help but smile when I noticed that he too lacked a red cup.

It took me three beers before I could even begin to master the art of foam-free keg pumping. Having virtually no tolerance, I began to feel less inhibited, but I wasn't exactly enjoying myself. Mike talked my ear off, but I found it difficult to pay attention. Jessica gabbed about the upcoming homecoming dance, and I struggled to nod and utter relevant remarks during pauses in the conversation. Mostly, I continued to drink, not because I was looking to live dangerously, but, rather, out of discomfort. This rang especially true when I encountered Lauren in the living room.

"Oh, hi, Bella." She didn't bother to fake a welcoming smile.

I walked right past her, mumbling hello. Behind me, I heard her tell Conner in a voice filled with scorn, "Nice to see Bella Swan come down from her pedestal for once to spend time with us commoners."

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe I was just sick of pretending to be someone I wasn't, but I let Lauren's words get to me. My face flushed, and I looked for an escape. I stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

Tears began to flow as I realized that I was incapable of change. I wasn't a risk taker, not at all. I'd pushed Jacob away simply because he'd been right about me, because he knew me better than anyone else. My stupid, irresponsible risk of coming to this party made me feel worse, not better. I wasn't having fun. I didn't fit in with any of these people. In a roundabout way, Lauren was right. Even though I didn't think I was better than any of them, I certainly didn't belong with them either. Nor had I belonged with my classmates in Phoenix. The only time I was at home, content with those around me, was in La Push. Recently I'd tried to fight it, telling myself to take a chance on Dartmouth. In truth, I wouldn't be happy there, just like I'd never been happy back in Arizona or at school in Forks. I was gambling away my one sure shot of happiness in my otherwise dreary life.

I stood, deciding to leave and call Jacob before I did any more damage. However, suddenly the fact that I'd had five beers became unavoidably obvious as the floor spun beneath my feet. Begrudgingly, I told myself that my escape plan would have to wait; I didn't want Jake seeing me as a drunken, flakey mess.

Instead, I searched for a place to recover in solitude. Across the sea of drunken teenagers, through the window, I saw it. The back of the house was dimly lit, but I recognized a dock jetting out into the pond in the Newtons' backyard. It was bathed in moonlight, and more importantly, it was empty.

I struggled to slide the patio door open, and eventually my shoes hit the damp grass and I practically sprinted to the dock. Soon, I could pass the time wearing off my beer buzz alone while repenting my horrible treatment of Jake and forgetting about my emotional isolation from my classmates.

The downward slope to the dock was steeper than I expected, and with the whirling sensation that flooded my brain, I barely made it unscathed. Holding my head steady did nothing to ease the spinning, but I continued to the end of the dock, determined. I removed my shoes and then went to work on my brace, wanting to dip my feet into the cold water in an attempt to reach sobriety faster.

As I hopped on my good leg, loosening the brace, the horizon shifted and panic caused my body to go rigid as I realized I was falling. In the half second I was suspended in the air, I saw the wooden edge of the deck below me, poised to impound my forehead with uncompromising force. .

And then, just as I closed my eyes in morbid anticipation, it stopped. I was motionless, floating midair, but free from contact with the menacing wooden plank below me. It was then that I felt his arms around me, one supporting my neck, the other around my waist. I opened my eyes and found that Edward's face was inches from mine.

**Chapter Thirteen End Notes: **For those of you who don't mind the slower pacing of this story, I appreciate you patience! I keep writing super long chapters and then have to split them up, simply because I find natural stopping points in them that I didn't originally intend. I think it flows better. Also, drunk Bella… a cliché, I know, but the kid needs to get out of the house (and La Push), even if she does get herself into trouble. Chapter 14 will be up late tomorrow. It's the chapter where Bella gets out of her funk, and it's kind of awesome, at least in my opinion. Again, thanks for all the reviews! You guys make me blush…


	14. Giddy

**Chapter Fourteen Notes: **Writing this chapter was ever so much fun. This is the last update before I spend the next week selfishly sipping mai tais on a beach. Still, how I will survive without the internet for seven days is beyond me…

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Giddy **

Edward's eyes were as wide as saucers. Before I could process a single thought, he untangled his arms from my body, gently sat me down on dock, and stepped back.

"Are you _suicidal_?!" He seemed angry, though I had no clue why.

"No, Edward, I'm drunk." I made a fruitless attempt to stand, but gravity had other plans. The spinning returned in full force, and I resigned myself to my spot on the dock.

"Yes, that part is obvious. What's not so clear is why you felt the need to hover around a slippery dock in the dark with no apparent regard for your own safety." No question remained as to his state of mind; Edward was livid. "Nor do I understand why someone like you is excessively consuming alcohol in the first place."

I knew I should've been frightened by the sternness in his voice, but I was too wrapped up in what had just happened. Plus, he was now crouched down beside me, running his eyes over my body for some sign of injury or insanity. It was all very distracting.

Wallowing in a dizzy state of admiration, I whispered, "I think you just saved my life…" Thanks partly to the keg, I added in an airy, awed voice, "That was pretty cool."

He did his best to look disgusted with me, but something about his expression was off. "It was not _cool._" He let out an exasperated sigh and studied me as I grinned up at him like an idiot. "Good god, you are drunk."

I must have been, for my earlier anxiety had now faded into inexplicable giddiness. I'd nearly died, yet I'd been down that road so many times that it didn't really faze me, especially now in my sudden drunken euphoria. I just beamed at him.

"Thanks for that." I felt like I was glowing. "The life saving, I mean."

He rolled his eyes but gave the briefest glimmer of a smile in return. "Don't mention it. Just be careful with yourself."

"Yeah, yeah." I downplayed his concern because he didn't know me well enough to understand that caution was irrelevant; these sorts of mishaps dogged my every move. I didn't want to dwell on his heroics if it meant focusing on my own knack for mortal peril.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Where did you come from anyway? I thought I was alone out here."

Not meeting my gaze, he responded, "I was over by the trees, getting some air."

"Getting some air? You weren't even inside; I would've noticed you, trust me."

"I was around."

"No, you weren't. Besides, you're not exactly the type to run with the high school kegger crowd." My voice had a teasing quality to it. I hoped he didn't think I was flirting with him.

"I could say the same thing about you." He sized me up curiously.

"Yeah, well, I'm branching out, socializing with new people, trying new things. I'm having the time of my life." My attempt at nonchalance fell hopelessly flat.

"Sure you are." He cocked an eyebrow.

"What? I am." I was onto his little game. "Stop trying to trap me into saying something stupid."

"Then stop lying," he challenged.

This was getting old. "Fine, Edward. I'm here to prove a point to my boyfriend, who thinks I live safely and responsibly. But, _ta da_," I grandly gestured to myself and the dock beneath us, "I showed him. I got uncomfortable and sick of everyone inside and ran out here to play the part of the drunken loner and nearly killed myself yet again. Until you showed up. End of story." I took a deep breath, still slightly surprised that he always seemed to be hanging on my every word. "Your turn."

In one swift motion, he shifted from his upright position on the edge of the dock to leaning back on his elbows. "My turn to what, exactly?"

"Tell me something personal about you. I'm tired of always blabbing on and on while you sit there in silence and gather dirt on me."

In a small victory for me, Edward looked genuinely stumped. After a few moments, he beamed smugly. "I have a severe problem with allowing those around me to become dehydrated." He sat upright. "I'm going to get you a glass of water."

I glared unapologetically at him, refusing to break eye contact. "It figures."

I hated that it was so dark out; I was curious about something. Ignoring his earlier life-saving heroics and instead focusing on his refusal to take me seriously, I muttered, "They're probably pitch black today."

He froze, his attempt to rise to his feet forgotten. "What did you say?"

My inhibitions were gone along with my self respect, so I stared him down and replied, "Sometimes, you're sort of… nice to me. On those days, your eyes are light, a yellow-brownish color." As I spoke, he studied me with amazement. Maybe he was drunk, too. I continued, "But then, other times, you're an asshole, and then they're black. So, I'm thinking you're actually two people, Edward, the amber-eyed guy who's interesting to talk to, and Eduardo, the dark-eyed evil twin who ties the other one up in the basement." I couldn't contain my laughter; suddenly, I found myself hilarious even though I was still perturbed at Edward and his stupid, secretive behavior.

"You're drunk." For the first time since we'd met, he sounded like he doubted himself.

Edward shifted to stand, but he was uncharacteristically sluggish in his movement, as if stunned into slow motion.

I felt restless and smug. Referring to my theory and not his accusation, I smirked as I reeled in my newfound power to annoy him. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Without thinking, I leaned in close to his face so I could gage the hue of his irises. As soon as I did, my brain lost capacity for conscious thought. We were maybe four inches apart from each other, our faces unmoving, eyelids unblinking. Neither one of us took a single breath.

At first, he looked as if he wanted to pull away, but then the cloud of conflict lifted from his immaculate face and his expression became vulnerable and dazed. I desperately needed one of us to reach out so our skin could touch, but I was frozen into submission by the way his eyes bored into mine with such intensity that I could have sworn we were already making physical contact. For that stationary second in time, I forgot my own name and every other person I'd ever known. No one else could come between us; I existed for him and he for me. I was drunk not from the warm beer that mixed with the blood in my veins but, rather, from the unyielding magic of Edward Cullen's stare.

A voice from the back of my head told me none of it was real, that I needed to look away because the fire igniting between Edward and me was dangerously misleading. The beer and I told the voice to go to hell, but the moment was already lost. Edward blinked and recoiled away from me.

Without breathing, he jumped to his feet and jogged down the dock to the muddy safety of the Newtons' yard. "Water," he murmured. "You need water." He stopped short after a few paces and turned so his eyes again found me. "Don't move; I don't want to have to fish you out of that pond."

All I could do was nod as I combed through my mind for some semblance of reason. He disappeared into the house, and I tried to make sense of the electricity that still jolted every nerve in my body.

Clearly, my intoxication had rendered me brain damaged. _It's_ _the beer, Bella, the beer is making you loopy. Beer is not something you should ever, ever drink mass quantities of again. _

I went through the mantra I was finding more and more necessary as time wore on. _This feeling is irrelevant to Edward Cullen. I have a crush on him, that's a given, but it will not go anywhere. I love Jacob Black. He is real. Edward is… witchcraft. Underneath his dazzling exterior, he's got to be ordinary and unappealing. Anyone with that face isn't lucky enough to have a personality, too. _

It made perfect sense. Edward was the type of guy all the girls wanted but that none of us could every really have any real hope of getting. He was just a fantasy; I was certain that if I got to know him, really know him, he'd prove to be Mike Newton in wolf's clothing. The idea appealed to me. As I spotted Edward through the living room window, weaving his way through the crowd with a cup that was likely filled with ice water, I vowed to befriend him for the sake of my own sanity.

He gracefully exited through the same patio door that had given me so much trouble, but just as he turned to avoid the small crowd that now spilled into the backyard, Edward encountered an obstacle. Lauren, clearly drunk out of her mind, reached out over the railing of the patio and laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it as if she was capable of transferring the Ebola virus through her fingertips. She glanced down at where I lounged on the dock and leaned in closer to him, spilling half the contents of her cup on herself in the process.

I couldn't make out her slurred words from yards away, but I didn't need close proximity to interpret Edward's response. He lifted her hand off of him with the very tips of his fingers, as if she were a piece of dirty laundry, and headed to the dock, not seeming to notice or care that in his wake, Lauren lost her balance and collided with a nearby lawn gnome.

The loudest howl erupted from my gut. My burst of laughter quickly evolved into hysterics. I barely noticed that half the partygoers on the patio were staring at me in confused amusement; the only face I saw was Edward's as he chuckled at my ecstatic madness.

"Something funny?"

The delight had yet to die from my face, and I didn't dare try to suppress it. "You have totally ruined that girl for life. I hope you know that."

"Gnomes aren't exactly deadly; she'll survive." He grinned unapologetically then handed me the glass of water. I refused to get distracted by how white his teeth were.

"No, stupid, that's not what I mean." Boys were so dense sometimes. "Lauren _likes _you and she's too self-involved to see that you are _way_ out of her league." I doubled over in laughter again, not caring that alcohol was propelling my mouth into perilous waters.

When he didn't respond, I took a break from my hysteria to gauge his reaction. Another laugh escaped from my lips when I saw his face. I slapped my hand over my mouth.

After I partially regained my composure, I eked out, "Edward, are you _embarrassed_?"

His face wasn't red, but he looked a little uncomfortable as he stared at his feet.

He smiled ruefully and retorted, "If I wasn't worried that you were going to end up at the bottom of that pond before the night is over, I'd leave you here to fend for yourself against that girl." He shook his head at me in what I prayed was just feigned irritation. "You must know that she is green with envy when it comes to you."

I scoffed loudly. "Shut up. She's the queen bee around here. I'm just some annoyingly weird girl she has to deal with at school."

"Stop telling yourself that, Bella. You have no idea how other people see you." His eyes had a hint of intensity as he spoke; I had to cut off this chain of conversation before it got out of hand. If I was going to forge a friendship with Edward, I couldn't keep falling prey to his charms.

"Ugh. I don't care." I crawled to the yard and hesitantly stood. "I should be getting home; I have a curfew." It was the truth, even though it wasn't for another hour.

I fumbled my way up to the house, refusing to glance back at him. I knew that once I did, I'd return to the dock in an instant and tell him anything he wanted to hear. It was best that he thought I was momentarily bothered by him or just not interested in continuing our conversation. I needed boundaries.

Once inside, I combed through the crowd for Angela and finally spotted her on the couch, sitting so close to Ben that their shoulders brushed whenever one of them shifted their weight. I bit my lip. I couldn't interrupt their moment to selfishly beg for a ride home. I searched for pain in my ankle and found none. I was confident that my brace would help me survive the short walk home.

I exited the front door and barely reached the driveway when Mike shouted from the yard, "Bella! You leaving?" He could barely stand, and his words ran into each other. I didn't want to see what reduced inhibitions did to Mike's already freakishly persistent resolve.

"Uh, yeah. Time for me to hit the hay." My voice was still perky from my booze-induced giddiness. I crossed my fingers that this wouldn't encourage him further.

He scrunched up his face like a four-year-old trying to please his mother. "Oh! I know! I can walk with you. That way you'll be safe from attackers."

"_Attackers_?!" Another round of unstoppable laughter washed over me. "You do know we're in Forks, don't you? Are you worried about the Stanleys' shitzu?" I giggled as I continued down the driveway, unpleasantly aware that despite my mocking him, Mike trailed after me.

I resigned myself to ignoring my shadow, and soon, I heard his clumsy footsteps abruptly stop. I beamed to myself, but before I could pat myself on the back for my newly acquired Mike-repelling skills, I heard a voice behind me.

"Don't worry about her, you should stay at your party. I'll walk her home."

Edward was the lesser of two evils, I supposed. Shrugging, I motioned for him to follow and called over my shoulder, "Good night, Michael! Nice party!" My voice was unnecessarily loud, telling me my blood-alcohol level was likely through the roof.

Admitting to myself that I was still drunk caused me to grow increasingly nervous about running into Charlie once I made it home. Nevertheless, my worries didn't eclipse my notice of Edward walking a several yards behind me on the sidewalk. We didn't speak for two blocks, and the silence between us began to grate on my nerves. _What if he thinks I'm interested in him? Maybe he's worried that our hanging out tonight gave me false hope. _I paused as the realization hit me. _My god, does Edward see me as his own personal Mike Newton? _

Ignoring how my balance swayed, I stopped and turned to face him. "I feel weird with you stalking behind me like some creature of the night."

His only response was a pointed stare and a switch to a position parallel to me on the sidewalk, although he walked on the edge furthest away from where I staggered on the concrete.

Another block passed without a word. _He is so self-involved. He probably thinks I'm swooning over him right now. _My drunken frustration had reached its boiling point. Exhaling an incensed sigh, I muttered, "You know, you don't have to walk ten feet away from me. I'm not Lauren."

He looked at me in bewilderment.

I gave up on being subtle and barked, "For Pete's sake, Edward, I'm not going to fall in love with you just because you're civil to me every once in a blue moon. You can relax. This little act you've got going where you're physically repulsed by my presence is totally unnecessary."

Edward's jaw dropped as his eyes flashed with incredulity. "Unbelievable." His demeanor was cold, causing my alcohol-induced overconfidence to wane. I was almost relieved when he allowed frustration to seep into his voice as he said, "You are the most difficult, obstinate, confusing person I have ever known."

We both sulked toward my street in silence. When we were a block away, my guilty conscious reared its ugly head. Edward saved my life and kept me company on a night that would otherwise have ended with me crying myself to sleep, yet I berated him for simply trying not to lead me on. I'm sure he was used to girls falling all over him; how was he to know that I wasn't one of them, that all I wanted was friendship? He was being rational, and I was acting like a child, a common theme in my frequent irritations with Edward.

I stopped walking; he did as well, but neither of us looked at each other.

Finally, I gave in. "I'm behaving like a complete ass. I'm sorry. You saved me from another trip to the hospital, maybe even the morgue," I attempted to laugh at my little joke, but he just stared at me. Both of us were too aware that the morgue could have been a plausible reality.

"Anyway, thank you." I swallowed as my nerves created a fluttering sensation in my stomach. "I'd like it if we could maybe be friends. I, um, I think you're…" My cheeks reddened. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, but I also needed to be honest. "I like talking to you. I spend most of my time in La Push," I knew he likely understood the implication, "but when I'm forced to stick around Forks, us talking makes things a little less boring, you know?"

His eyes moved to the ground. "I'm not really the kind of person you should be friends with, Bella." He spoke solemnly, and I wondered if I was imagining a trace of disappointment on his part in the interest of my own self-preservation.

"Oh." I nodded, wishing I could convince him that I was only after his friendship, nothing more.

He ran both hands through his hair and paced briefly in a circle, clearly conflicted about something. "But perhaps we could be… acquaintances." He smiled carefully at me. "After all, English would become awfully dull without you."

"Sounds good." I restrained my reaction to a subdued nod. I never intended that Edward and I would become weekend shopping buddies or that we'd sit around and braid each other's hair; the promise of more in-class banter was enough… Plus, we belonged to different classes; he was beautiful and had every advantage life had to offer, while I was plain and habitually invisible to everyone I met. I wasn't stupid; I knew my place. Further, setting certain limits to our interaction was also the necessary choice, at least where the well-being of my relationship with Jake was concerned.

We took a few more steps before he asked in a curious but wary voice, "So what color are they today?"

I knew exactly what he was referring to, but if I had any shot of repressing the memory of our moment on the dock, I had to feign ignorance. "What color are what?"

He pointed at his eyes, and I diverted mine. I certainly didn't need a reminder.

Biting my lip, I answered in a rush, "Somewhere in the middle. I think that maybe there are three of you instead of two."

He didn't smile but responded, "Three of us? The evil one must have his hands full, what with so many people to lock up in the basement…"

"Very funny." Fortunately, I was still too intoxicated to feel the embarrassment of my earlier remarks.

We walked around the corner wordlessly with Edward still keeping his self-imposed four-foot distance on the sidewalk.

A bit of my drunken giddiness remained lodged in my chest waiting like a poltergeist to wreak havoc, but when my gaze fell upon Charlie's front porch, the poltergeist was officially exorcized.

On the steps, Jacob sat with his head in his hands. He looked up when he heard us approach. The miserable expression on his face mixed with uncertainty as his eyes flickered between Edward and the sheepish expression on my face.

**Chapter End Notes: **To everyone who is still reading this story, a million thank yous, and to my loyal reviewers, I seriously adore you. New chapter up as soon as I'm back in the States, I promise.


	15. Half Truths

**Chapter Notes: **I'm finally back from vacation! Thanks for all your reviews and patience for this chapter.

In case you forgot, here's a brief synopsis of where we last left off: Jake awaits Bella back at Charlie's, where Bella and Edward encounter him after Edward walks a drunken Bella home from Mike's party.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Half Truths**

A hundred emotions should have run through me at the sight of Jake on my porch. I should have felt guilty as soon as I saw the way his eyes drooped like a basset hound's. Worry should have flooded through me that his glance darted from my giddy, drunken swagger to Edward's expression of amusement in the second before we noticed we had an audience. Panic should have risen in my chest over the fact that Jake probably assumed the worst, that I was intoxicated not by the cheap beer that poured from Mike Newton's keg but, rather, by the flawlessly beautiful boy at my side. But at the exact moment my eyes fell upon Jacob, I felt none of the things I was supposed to feel. Instead, a single emotion consumed me, one that made little sense in light of the remorse I'd felt over my treatment of Jake just hours earlier. I wasn't guilty, worried, panicked, scared, or even sorry. I was annoyed.

I would never be able to justify my annoyance later, after sobriety hit me like a freight train, but as I stood on the sidewalk that bordered Charlie's yard with Edward standing next to me and Jacob now on his feet yards away, my brain told me I was purely and reasonably annoyed. I wasn't prepared to deal with Jacob and his unfailing honesty, his earnestness, the innocence that made him both ordinary and extraordinary. I wasn't ready to admit I'd been wrong; after all, the evening wasn't over, and according to my watch, I still had an hour of irresponsibility left before I'd return to the respectable, relatively unselfish lifestyle I usually tried so hard to live. Yet, here was Jake, an in-the-flesh reminder that my entire evening had been a mistake despite and possibly because of the euphoria I'd felt for the past two hours in the presence of Edward Cullen. In my drunken state, Edward and I were having a great time, and even though I knew it couldn't last, I wasn't ready for the adrenaline pulsing through my veins to go away. Now, though, it had to; Jacob Black and Edward Cullen existed in two separate and distinct universes, and I was painfully aware of which one I belonged in.

"Bella?" Jacob's words cut through the damp evening air, hitting my face along with the chilly autumn breeze. "Are you alright?" He didn't sound angry, which only fueled my inexplicable annoyance.

"Ugh. Yes, Jacob, I'm fine." I made a show of spinning around so he could see I was physically unscathed. "See? No injuries. I bet I can even hop on one foot without crumbling to pieces."

For a danger magnet like myself, doing anything that requires relinquishing the use of one leg after five beers is never a good idea. Immediately after I shifted my balance to my left foot, the earth did its all too familiar spinning routine again. Before I could collapse in a heap on the ground, Edward scooped me up with one arm, so that I was now leaning against him for support.

Keeping with the theme of the evening, my response was highly improper; a chill raised goose bumps on the arm that was pressed ever so lightly against his chest, and all I could think was _Christ, he smells fantastic. _

Of course, unlike me, Edward's response was very appropriate; in an instant, he handed me off to Jacob, who had now reached where Edward and I stood on the sidewalk. Immediately, I shrugged Jake off and stood on my own, very aware that I was positioned exactly halfway in between the two of them.

As much as I'd tried to avoid it, comparing them to each other as they stood in such close proximity was inevitable. Jacob was the love of my life and I typically saw him as innocent and beautiful, but now he looked like a child. Though some of his baby fat had disappeared in the past year and his height had increased, he was still so _young_. Edward, on the other hand, looked like one of those boyish model-slash-actors in their mid-twenties who portrayed high school students on television, free of acne, out-of-place hairs, and a single ounce of body fat. I couldn't hold this against Jake, of course, as I was certain that everyone looked like a clumsy, messy adolescent next to Edward; I put myself at the top of that list.

In words that came out jumbled and shaky, I attempted social normalcy. "Jake, Edward." I wagged my index finger back and forth at each of them. "Edward, Jake."

Neither spoke in response. Instead, they just stood there in the dark, appraising each other like two bulls in a pasture. Jacob looked nervous to me, but perhaps that was because he had to look up just slightly to meet Edward's gaze. I knew Jake well enough to know that mixed in with any nerves he may have felt, he was also suspicious, which explained why he bit the corner of his lip slightly and cocked his head to the left so that his long black hair hung down past his shoulder. Conversely, Edward studied Jacob without a trace of discomfort or animosity. In my swirled, intoxicated vision, he looked as if he was determinedly searching Jacob's face. Edward's eyes bore holes into Jacob's as if Edward was forcing himself to find something, even if whatever it was wasn't even there in the first place.

I shook my head at the situation, but no one noticed. Instead, Edward turned and began to walk back down the sidewalk. Before he disappeared from sight, he called to Jacob without turning around, "Take care of her."

Jake's head snapped to attention. In a tone too sharp for his usual gentle demeanor, he responded, "Oh, I plan on it."

This exchange made me feel like a porcelain doll and prompted me to storm off toward the house. If Jake uttered a single word to me, I'd surely explode. Now was not the time to get into an argument.

Jacob disagreed, grabbing my wrist and spinning me around so we faced each other. "Well?" he asked in an incredulous voice. "What the hell was that about?"

I rolled my eyes, which did nothing to appease him. "What was what? That?" I gestured to the darkness that had swallowed up the spot where Edward had stood just moments earlier. "He was walking me home, Jake. In case you didn't notice, I'm kind of tanked."

"_He _was walking you home?"

"Yeah, so?" I knew what Jacob was insinuating, and I didn't want to dignify his ludicrous assumption by acknowledging it.

"I thought you hated him."

"Ugh. He has his moments." I rubbed my temples, ignoring Jacob's furious expression and trying to mentally force the conversation into oblivion. "I've already told you, I don't hate him, Jake, but I'm not exactly in love with him either." _'Not exactly' being the key phrase. _"Don't be jealous. He was doing me a favor. It was either him or Mike."

He glared at me. "Mike Newton doesn't look like _that._"

The ridiculousness of our spat was not lost on me, though it likely was on Jacob. "Oh, so overly attentive, unattractive guys are fine to walk me home late at night, but the gorgeous, decent ones should keep their distance?"

The use of the word "gorgeous" was a mistake. Jake poorly tried to mask his resentment. "Whatever, Bella."

"Oh, god, don't be jealous. He can't stand me. He's just nice to me sometimes because I think he thinks I'm kind of crazy and he feels sorry for me." I spoke the truth to comfort Jake but found that I caused myself anguish with my own words.

"Is he why you're drinking?"

For reasons I couldn't understand, I didn't want Jake thinking ill of Edward. "No, he kept me from falling into the Newton's pond. He's just looking at me like a charity case. He kind of saved my life. It's not a big deal; after all, I'm in danger like seventy-five percent of the time anyway."

I'd said too much. Jake studied me with a bothered expression. "I don't think you're his charity case, Bella."

He knew nothing of my interactions with Edward; any insight he thought he possessed was tainted by unnecessary jealousy. "You're wrong."

He moved to sit on the porch swing, and I followed. We swung slowly as he continued, "You know, I don't even know who you are these days. You don't tell me anything anymore, you come home late at night with pretty boys, reeking of booze… You're really freaking me out."

"If I'm freaking you out, why don't you come with me when I ask you to or support me when I want to try something different?" Already, I was spouting off on subjects I usually censored even in my own inner monologue. However, the liquid courage pumping through my body sustained me and kept me talking. "Instead, you tell me you like it when I play everything in my life safe. If we're in this together, if we are a team, then why can't you step out of your little bubble and live life with me once in awhile? I always have to sit back and not take any chances just so I can be your 'good old reliable Bella.' We're always with your friends, in your hometown. I am so tired of everything we do being so ordinary. Don't you want anything else out of life, Jake?"

Jacob sniffled. Finally, the guilt hit. I had made Jacob _cry. _Certainly, there was now a seat on the bus to hell reserved for me.

The tears weren't yet streaming down his face, but judging from his voice, they were inevitable. "No, Bella, I don't want anything else. All I want is you."

It was so simple. How could I not want that too? Just him and me, Jake and Bells without question until both of us were buried six feet under. After a nomadic life with my mother, filled with various father figures and frequent changes of address, I could finally have a home, a guarantee for the future.

I'd never been a teenager, not once in my entire life; always, I'd been a middle-aged woman who took care of those she loved. That was why my sudden rebellion made so little sense. I was beyond wanting a tattoo or piercing my nose. Still, I was acting out, and it was hurting Jacob. Worse yet, tonight this _annoyed _me; I had fallen so deeply into my own selfishness that Jacob's pain irritated me. I had to be the worst breed of girlfriend.

Jake stared at me expectantly, but I wasn't sure I could give him the response he needed. "How do you know I'm all you want? Jake, you've never even been to Oregon. There's a lot of world out there, a lot of _girls_ out there."

I had to lean in to hear his response.

"Bella, I don't need to travel around the world or date a thousand girls to know you and I are meant to be." He swallowed and stared up at the moonlit clouds that interrupted the monotony of the navy sky. "I look at my life ten, twenty, thirty years in the future and I'm with you. Always." He suddenly turned and grabbed my face with both hands. "What do you want? How can I fix this?"

His words caught me off guard. "How can _you _fix this? Jake, you did nothing wrong. I'm the one who's broken."

He shook his head, but I rendered him motionless by placing a hand on each of his shoulders. Quietly, I spoke nothing but the truth, as painful as it was. "I'm applying to Dartmouth. I have to. I need to feel like my own person."

The tears fought their way out of his eyelids, but he nodded, urging me to continue.

"When we were at dinner for my birthday, you acted as if I couldn't do it; that I was afraid, or at least too loyal to ever do anything that would hurt you. But I have to know what it feels like to put something up to chance. I have to be selfish. Just this once. If you can stay with me through this, then I get all I want, I get to take the risk and keep you, which is way more than I deserve. But if you can't—" I couldn't continue. Finishing that sentence would annihilate me.

He placed a finger to my lips. "I can, Bells. I'll stick by you through anything. I can't live—no, I can't _function _without you."

This was the news I was waiting for, but instead of total relief, part of me felt like I was drowning. "You say that Jake, but neither of us knows anything but each other. Aren't you worried that how we feel for each other might change someday? I mean, look at my parents. They got married when they were only a little bit older than I am right now… And look what happened to them. They loved each other, but that wasn't enough."

Jacob wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "We're not them, Bella. We don't have to get married right out of high school. You can go away to college, and when you're done, then we can start our life together. That way you're not missing out on anything."

I nodded wordlessly. Jacob was willing to make it work regardless of where I went to school. It was what I needed, but I still didn't feel like I was getting what I wanted.

Quietly, I asked, "What happens after that? Where do we live? What do we do with our lives?" Suddenly, I couldn't picture anything in our future that didn't involve picket-fenced lawns in La Push. My heart began to race as if my body were running the last leg of a marathon; I was exhausted.

Jake looked mystified by my question. "I have no idea. We'll figure it out when the time comes. We don't have to plan our entire lives this second. Relax."

He was so calm. This only worried me more. Despite what he said aloud, we were setting our future in stone. He expected no obstacles. In Jacob's mind, I'm sure he saw us heading down a road without detours. I desperately wanted to be that naïve.

Amidst my confusion, I spoke only words I knew to be true. "I love you, Jake."

He hugged me close, resting his head on my shoulder. I sat up perfectly straight, unable to lean into his embrace. Something was wrong with me; I was incapable of happiness.

Jacob helped me stand. I crept into the house, praying Charlie wouldn't attempt to chat with me about my evening. He sat in his favorite recliner in the living room, snoring lightly in front of the television.

"Do you need help up the stairs?" Jacob whispered at my side.

I shook my head and mouthed, "Too risky." I kissed him on the cheek and crawled up the stairs. Once I reached the second floor, Jake waived and gingerly closed the front door behind him.

I stumbled into my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed without bothering to change into my pajamas. My head spun, but this didn't affect the thoughts running through my mind. My annoyance had completely faded away, and I came to realize that I hated myself for what I was doing to Jacob. Of course I loved him more than words could express, but I was experiencing a temporary lapse in judgment.

I knew exactly who to blame for turning me into a selfish, confused mess. Yet, I couldn't shut myself off from Edward Cullen. He was by far the most interesting person in my life. This was the reason I had to know everything about him; I had to prove to myself that he wasn't perfect, that he had the emotional depth of a teaspoon, that we had nothing in common. Once I could refute all the things that drew me to him, I could be Jacob's Bella again, the girl who knew who she was and what made her happy. However, until that day came, part of me would belong to Edward, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

That night, I dreamt that Jacob could see right through me. In a fit of rage, the dream version of Jacob Black demanded the truth. I woke up in a cold sweat. Sleep did not return, and I began to ponder how I'd answer Jacob's questions in reality. I knew exactly what I would tell him, how I'd say Edward and I were barely friends, that we had never and will never belong in the same circles. All of it was the truth, except for the part I could never say, that some piece of me, buried deep inside, wished that my spoken truths were actually lies.


	16. Acquaintances

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Acquaintances **

In my head, my plan was simple: I would befriend Edward Cullen, stick to him like glue if I had to, until I knew everything about him. Eventually, I would discover something that turned me off to his charms, something that would change him from the beautiful enigma with whom I shared confusing but mind-blowing conversation into someone average and real. Surely, I'd soon discover he had an affinity for gangsta rap and monster-truck rallies or that he spent the majority of his free time admiring himself in the mirror. Perhaps he was unforgivably rude to his parents or impossibly selfish. In time, he'd almost certainly prove to be cruel, dull, or vain. In sum, my scheme would allow me to discover that he wasn't worth my involuntary fascination. I had to kill every single butterfly that fluttered in my stomach whenever I was in Edward's presence; I had to see Edward just like every other male at Forks High School: immature, irritating, and irrelevant. After I uncovered Edward's flaws, I'd again be capable of loving Jacob with every ounce of my being, with no remorse or second guesses as to my future, _our _future.

In reality, my plan would prove more challenging than I'd hoped.

On Monday, I arrived at school hell bent on my mission. After Mike's party, Edward had begrudgingly admitted he found me interesting, so much so that he'd acquiesced to an "acquaintanceship" between the two of us. I wasn't going to let him weasel out of his proposal; rather, I planned on upping the ante by greeting him in the hallway every time I saw him and waving to him at the start of the lunch hour. I wasn't brave enough to plop myself down at his lunch table, but I'd do everything else in my power to force us into a necessary friendship. Soon, his face would blend in with everyone else, and I could finally return to my normal life where my heart beat at a steady pace and my affections were reserved for Jacob Black.

I knew Edward kept his distance because he was worried that I was like all the other girls who swooned over his every word and fell completely in love with him within five seconds of first seeing his mind-numbingly dazzling face. But he was wrong. I hardly knew him, and I already found that he aggravated the hell out of me; after a few short weeks of picking his brain, I'd likely find him intolerable.

I kept my eyes peeled for him in between classes but never once saw him. At lunch, I braced myself to give him a perky wave from across the cafeteria, but to my dismay, both he and his sister were nowhere in sight. Monday turned into Tuesday, and by Wednesday, I was stir crazy and anxious after I spent another English class period next to an empty desk.

_Where the hell is he? _I asked myself when I stormed past the lunch line on Thursday to discover Edward and Alice's table was still deserted. Even in my head, my voice sounded panicky.

At first, I'd wondered if this time was like his extended absence during the first week of school, but I tried to calm myself by remembering that this time it was different, Alice was gone too and Edward hadn't displayed any recent signs of revulsion toward me. _They have to come back; nobody disappears a month into their senior year and transfers to a different school. Maybe they're on vacation or one of their relatives in Alaska died and they're attending the funeral. _The excuses piled up, but I couldn't force myself to believe a single one of them. The Cullens disappearing for good should have been a blessing, but given my unrelenting obsession over their vanishing act, I knew that my original plan to investigate Edward in person was still the only way to get him out of my head.

Later Thursday afternoon, nothing could lift me from my frustrated funk. After school, Jacob's perky, cheerleader-like encouragements about my Dartmouth application brought a smile to my face, but my nerves were still on edge. When Charlie called and said he was bringing home pizza loaded with my favorite toppings, I knew I was in trouble because I only whined to myself that I wouldn't have cooking to distract me from my rapid-fire speculations about the Cullens' current location. Even the weather was wearing on my nerves; usually, any hour without rain in Washington was a cause for celebration, but today the beautiful sunny weather that had inexplicably persevered in Forks for five consecutive days only annoyed me because it didn't match my grumpy disposition.

Friday was more of the same, and as I parked my truck outside Newton Outfitters after school let out, I was certain my mood could not grow any fouler. Mike greeted me with an enthusiastic hello as soon as I walked through the door, but I could only grumble an empty response as I tied on my polyester work smock and slumped over the counter behind the cash register.

Mike smiled at me sympathetically from across the store where he restocked hiking boots. "Rough week?"

"The roughest." I stared out the windows at the town square. My only sense of relief came from the suddenly overcast sky; at least the weather would finally coincide with my grouchiness.

"They say a big storm's headed in tonight," Mike mused. "I bet business will be a bit slower today. Nobody wants to camp in the rain." Most of the Newtons' business came from weekend visitors to the area, campers seeking last minute supplies they'd forgotten to pack.

"Yeah, that's too bad. I kind of like it when it gets busier in here."

Mike smiled back at me. "I know what you mean; it makes the time pass a lot faster. Plus, it puts Mom and Dad in a great mood; I can usually get another hour tacked onto my curfew on days when business is good." His cheerfulness faded as he looked past me out the large storefront windows. "Oh great," he groaned.

"What?" I asked, following his gaze to a monstrous red jeep making its way towards us down the street.

"Ugh. The Cullens are coming."

My heart stopped. "The Cullens? They're coming in _here_?"

Mike was brooding too much to notice my dread. "They're in here all the time; they're big time outdoor enthusiasts. I bet they were out of town camping all week." Under his breath, he muttered, "Lucky bastards."

I glanced down at my bright orange smock and considered bolting for the storeroom. I'd been eager to see Edward at school, but not like this, in front of his entire family, dressed like a construction worker.

Before I could act on my instinct, Mike asked, "Can you please deal with them? They make me sick to my stomach, Bella. Just being around them gives me the creeps." He noticed my skeptical expression and added, "You'll see. Just wait until you meet them all. The big one especially."

His face looked so pathetic that I couldn't say no. Reluctantly, I gave him a sympathetic smile and turned my focus back to the window. The jeep was parked in front of the store now, and I could see it had three occupants. The first two piled out onto the pavement, one tall and blond, the other enormous and muscular with curly dark hair; I could see why Mike was apprehensive in the bigger one's presence. Squinting, I made out the face of the third, who remained seated in front passenger seat of the vehicle; he stared back at me and despite my earlier unwillingness to see him, I begged Edward with my eyes to climb out of the jeep and come inside. My hopes were dashed as I realized the rigid expression on his face meant he had no intention of answering my silent pleas.

The other two Cullens noisily made their way into the store. The muscular one was laughing uncontrollably while the other shook his head silently as amusement washed over his face. They headed back to the aisle where the fishing poles were kept while I busied myself with an old copy of _Guns & Ammo _that Mr. Newton kept behind the register.

My eyes studied an advertisement for a camouflaged rifle, but my brain refused to process a single word on the page. Instead, I was hyper-aware that Edward could see every move I made, if he opted to look at me from his spot inside the jeep. Of course, I refused to look at him to see if he was staring in my direction, so I continued to flounder in my inner turmoil. I was so distracted by keeping up the appearance of nonchalance that I jumped when I realized Edward's brothers had moved to the front of the store. Thankfully, they seemed oblivious to me, the insignificant girl behind the counter.

The biggest of the two Cullens cleared his throat. Turning to the other, he asked in a booming voice, "Which one do you think he'd want, Jasper?" He held at least three fishing poles in each hand, dramatically lifting up one at a time as if weighing them with his bulging arms. Dramatically, he continued, "I have _no idea_ what Edward's tastes are."

His blond brother, apparently named Jasper, took a deep breath. "Let him be, Emmett." His tone was steady, as if soothing a potentially violent wild animal.

Emmett grinned. "Now, Jasper, we can't let Edward go on this fishing trip with a pole that he's not 100 satisfied with." He moved to the store window and tapped on the glass.

In the jeep, Edward appeared shift his attention to Emmett against his own will. He slowly turned his head forward toward the storefront. It was hard to tell through the jeep's tinted glass, but his jaw looked locked in place, indicating frustration.

Emmett's face displayed a look of overdramatic confusion, complete with a furrowed brow and a bitten lip. He shifted the fishing poles from hand to hand. "WHICH ONE?" he mouthed through the glass.

Edward shook his head in response, clearly indicating he didn't care, but Emmett continued to shrug and examine the poles. As if portraying the role of the clumsy oaf in a vaudeville act, Emmett nearly dropped several as he elaborately struggled to maintain his balance. "THIS ONE?" He tried to point but had difficulty singling one out.

Edward nodded begrudgingly as if granting Emmett a tremendous favor. His lips moved very briefly.

"WHAT?" Emmett's pantomiming continued. He pointed to his ear and mouthed, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU." Then, he motioned for Edward to come in, to which Edward responded with a look that would put lesser men in their place. Emmett, however, was unfazed; if anything, his eyes lit up as if he were playing a game. "COME HERE." His words lacked sound, but I could feel playful antagonism in them.

Jasper said something quickly under his breath, but his words were lost on me.

I knew I should've tried harder to keep up my feigned absorption in _Guns & Ammo_, but the exchange among the Cullens was too fascinating. I didn't even look away when Emmett looked back at me with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry about all of this. Our brother, he's a bit difficult."

With his hulking frame and impossibly loud voice, Emmett should have scared me to death or at least intimidated me into silence, but I was more entertained by him than anything else. "Oh, don't worry, I know that already." I smirked back at him, impressed with my own confidence.

He studied me for a moment before retorting with a grin, "I bet you do."

The sound of the jeep door slamming shut startled me. In a nanosecond, Edward threw open the shop door, bells ringing in a futile attempt to announce his presence.

"Oh, there you are!" Emmett exclaimed with overemphasized relief. "Which one—"

"I don't care." Edward spoke through gritted teeth.

"Now, Edward, once we get close to the trout, you'll feel otherwise. You know how you get." He showed off the handfuls of fishing poles as if he were the world's most ripped game show hostess.

Without looking, Edward grabbed the closest one. To his surprise, Emmett then shoved all the poles into Edward's arms. "Don't make a rash decision. Think about it. We'll be in the car." Emmett was carefree as he gracefully strode back out of the shop. Jasper shot Edward an apologetic look before following his brother to the jeep.

The shop door banged shut behind Jasper, and Edward and I were alone.

I couldn't help but flash a wide grin in his direction. "Hey."

He stood in the middle of the store, his face dumbstruck, his hands juggling a tangled mess of fishing rods. It was all so ridiculous; I could barely contain the laughter that bubbled up in my throat.

The annoyance from his encounter with Emmett evaporated when he looked over at me. He returned my grin, and I did my best not to melt into the floor. "Hello, Bella."

He carried the fishing poles over to the counter in front of me and sat them down with a flourish. "I should apologize for—"

I shook my head at him. "Don't worry about it. I found your brother pretty entertaining, actually."

"Well, he certainly would agree with you, but for the rest of us, he's irritating beyond belief." Edward glanced out to the jeep where Emmett sat in the driver's seat, cranking up the bass on the stereo to the point that the fishing poles began to rattle against the glass countertop in front of us.

"So did you decide which one you wanted? Because if you need help picking one out… I have zero expertise to offer you."

He smiled again. Despite his earlier behavior, he seemed to be in a good mood. "No expertise needed. I'll just take this one." He lifted the most expensive pole from the pile and handed it to me.

As I moved to the cash register to ring up his purchase, I asked, "So where did you disappear to all week? You missed a fascinating week in English; Mr. Berty brought in a short story he wrote, and it was awesomely awful." I hoped Edward wouldn't notice how I couldn't stop beaming.

"My family and I decided to head up north near Alaska for a hunting trip." He was careful with his words, which I found maddening. _Why must he be so mysterious whenever he answers questions about himself? Maybe he turns into that yeti Mr. Crowley was talking about whenever there's a full moon…_

It took me a moment before I realized it, but Edward and I had locked eyes. He refused to avert his, which were predictably light to match his relatively cheerful mood, so I looked away to search for a bag large enough for his fishing pole. "That's quite a drive for hunting. You must really be into that sort of thing."

He chuckled, undoubtedly amused at some private joke he would never share with me. "I suppose so." He leaned slightly on the counter, not bothering to stand up straight when I handed him his bag and receipt. "I can't help but ask; how was your recovery after Saturday night?"

He smirked at me, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. "I survived. I don't know if you've heard, but Tylenol is a miracle drug."

His smugness vanished, and his tone became grave. "That's good to hear, but I wasn't referring to your health."

I narrowed my eyes at him. I knew his strategy, and I wanted to tell Edward he could relax; I hadn't dumped my boyfriend to chase after him. I tried to tell myself Edward was insufferably vain, but to his credit, anyone with his face would have valid concerns about girls tossing their significant others aside in a fruitless attempt to win his affection.

I kept my thoughts to myself, and smiled up at him. "Jake and I are just fine. He was pretty cool about the whole thing." I sighed. "Actually, 'pretty cool' doesn't do him justice; he was a total saint in light of my… behavior." I blushed at the memory.

The muscles in Edward's face relaxed, giving weight to my theory about his motivations behind asking about Jake. He nodded sincerely. "I'm glad." He picked up his new fishing rod and stood up straight. Almost as an afterthought, he asked, "So Berty's short story wasn't exactly Shakespeare?"

I didn't really care that my face lit up like a forest fire. "The main character was a centaur, Edward. You picked the wrong week to skip out."

His laugh filled the entire store. "I agree." It must have been the lighting, but I could've sworn his eyes sparkled ever so slightly. He tapped the counter with his fingertips and turned for the door. "See you Monday, Bella."

All I could do was bob my head up and down and smile. When I was finally capable of choking out a goodbye, he'd already left.

X X X

In the following weeks, I attempted to carry out my plan to the best of my ability, but Edward still kept me at arm's length. I was getting nowhere; I'd found out nothing about Edward to dissuade me from my obsession with him. We spoke every day in English, but I was never able to get him to supply a direct answer to any personal question I asked him. Mostly, we discussed the novels we read for class or made small talk about the principal's newly acquired hair piece. I tried to avoid talking about my personal life, but he still occasionally led me down that road.

The only increase in our interaction outside of English class began on the Monday following the Cullens' visit to Newton Outfitters. Given Edward's friendliness in the shop, I got up the nerve to nod at Edward as I passed his table in the cafeteria. He granted me a slight smile in return. We continued this routine for several weeks. Finally, Jessica's undying curiosity got the best of her. I saw her watching my exchange with Edward as I approached my usual seat opposite Mike with my tray.

"So what's the deal with you and Edward Cullen? Are you guys friends or something?" It was October, and she'd brought a gallon of apple cider to the table for all of us to share. I should've known her generosity would come at a price.

"We sit next to each other English, so we help each other stay awake during Mr. Berty's lectures." I took a gulp of my cup of cider and pretended not to see the look of intrigue on Jessica's face. "That's all."

"He never talks to anyone but his sister and you, Bella." She spoke as if accusing me of something.

"He hardly talks to me either, except in English." This fact drove me insane; I felt like a detective following a trail of cold evidence when it came to befriending Edward.

Lauren was pretending not to listen, but she was a terrible actress. I knew she was still fuming over how Edward had blown her off at Mike's party.

Jessica leaned toward me conspiratorially. "Do you have a thing for him?"

Usually, my acting skills were far worse than Lauren's, but I'd practiced my answer to that question over and over in my head so many times that I was ready. It didn't matter that the asker was Jessica instead of Jacob. "No way. I just think he's interesting to talk to. We're just acquaintances." _Very impressive, Bella_. Before I could congratulate myself too much, I stupidly continued, "He doesn't even want to be my friend, so I think he just talks to me because he pities me."

Lauren shifted her blue eyes in my direction, barely suppressing a smug grin. My brutal honesty about my relationship with Edward clearly pleased her.

Jessica didn't push any further. It was obvious to everyone that Edward had no interest in me outside of sixth period. He was out of everyone's league; the distance he kept from all of us made perfect sense, even to Jessica Stanley.

Once all eyes were off of me, I stole a glance at him. He was pushing food around his tray as his sister smirked at him from across the table. I would've given a pinky toe to know what they talked about every day.

At our table, the topic had turned to the homecoming dance. Jessica was babbling on about finding shoes to match her dress. Tyler mentioned something about how he needed to get a new dress shirt in a larger size to accommodate the growth in his biceps. Lauren fell into his trap and was feeling his arms as he flexed. Mike then added he was planning on waxing his Suburban before he picked up his date, an overeager sophomore who'd told him she thought he was the next Brett Favre. Anyone who saw my expression would know immediately I'd welcome a gunshot to the face rather than continue listening to the conversation around me. Nonetheless, I stayed in my seat, having really nowhere else to go.

Twenty minutes later, I escaped to English, though I was still worn out from the hellish monotony of the past fifty minutes.

Edward studied me closely as I entered the room, my shoulders hunched and my face likely gloomy. Of course, he noticed everything. "Another riveting lunch hour?"

I slumped into my seat, tossing my books onto the desk with a bit too much force. "You have no idea."

He didn't push the issue, and I was thankful. I didn't want him knowing how lonely my classmates made me feel. They annoyed me as well, but mostly they made me feel like some sort of freak for not caring about dances, celebrity gossip, and high school sports. I spent the class period dwelling on how I never seemed to fit in anywhere.

The bell rang, startling me from my thoughts. Edward started for the door, but stopped suddenly. He turned, his face conflicted. Hesitantly, he murmured, "If you want, you could sit with Alice and me tomorrow."

"What?" He couldn't possible be suggesting what I thought he was suggesting.

"You could join me for lunch." He smiled down at me. "Think of it as a vacation from whatever, or whoever, it is that's bothering you."

I recalled what he'd told me on the sidewalk the night he'd walked me home from the party, how he'd restricted our relationship to "acquaintance" status. I couldn't help but say, "Having lunch together is something friends do, you know."

Edward was silent for a second before he sighed and responded, "Maybe being friends wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

I suppressed what surely would've been a humiliatingly dopy grin. "I agree."

I practically skipped off to History. My plan was finally taking shape.


	17. Friends

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Friends**

The prospect of eating lunch had never terrified me more. To abate my fear, I obsessively tried to form a game plan. Spaghetti would be a complete mistake, with the red, soupy sauce and the noodles that stuck together so that you never really stopped slurping them up until your plate was empty. Likewise, salad had too many variables, too many tricky vegetables, any of which could stick to my teeth without me knowing. A sandwich was the safest bet, but with my luck, I'd choke on a tomato and simultaneously die of asphyxiation and humiliation. The scenarios kept flying through my head, and I never once questioned how Edward Cullen could turn something as mundane as having lunch in a high school cafeteria into the social event of my senior year.

By the end of fourth period, I'd convinced myself that if somehow Edward miraculously remembered his invitation for me to join him for lunch, I'd drink water and eat only a handful of saltine crackers; the less risk, the better. And that was _if _he remembered. Or if he hadn't changed his mind completely. I entered the cafeteria alone after hiding in the bathroom for a good five minutes in an attempt to calm my nerves.

Edward wasn't there; Alice sat alone, her back to the door as usual. I should have been prepared for his absence; whenever I hoped to see him, he always let me down. My nerves morphed into disappointment. Of course he wasn't there; he'd probably just asked me yesterday on a whim, out of sympathy, and was now regretting his snap decision. I piled two slices of pizza onto my tray, trying to cheer myself up with comfort food. I hung my head and forced myself to turn in the direction of my socially awkward prison where Mike, Jessica, Lauren, and a few others were already seated.

Before I could take another step, he saved me.

"Did you change your mind?" he asked, his voice uncertain but his expression resolute.

Edward's words hit the back of my neck, and I didn't bother playing games. "Absolutely not." He moved to my side. Ignoring the lump in my throat, I continued, "Lead the way."

I reminded myself that it was only lunch, an event bathed in florescent lighting and the scent of fried food. I avoided looking at anyone as I followed Edward to the corner of the cafeteria where Alice sat, playing with her food. Seeing the back of her head, I stopped suddenly. Even though Edward walked a few paces ahead of me, he seemed to sense my hesitation and turned to me as soon as I froze.

"Backing out, are we?" He was arrogant, like he'd almost hoped that I wouldn't go through with our lunch plans, but he wasn't fooling me. I saw distress flicker on his face seconds before he spoke. Maybe he was just as sick of high school as I was; maybe that's why we got along so well, why occasionally he wanted me around.

In a rushed whisper, I asked, "Does your sister know I'm sitting at your table today?" In all my panicking, I somehow failed to figure Alice into the equation. Now, mere feet from her, a new wave of anxiety tensed the muscles in my neck. I couldn't picture the frosty girl from my Spanish class suddenly welcoming me with open arms.

"Relax, she knows."

My nerves got the best of me, and I made an actual gulping noise aloud, the kind cartoon characters make when they realize they've run off of a cliff and have no ground left beneath their feet. _There is no way this is going to go smoothly, _I thought as I set my tray down across the table from Edward. Alice sat to my right. Without turning my head, I could feel her studying me.

I opened my mouth to say something to her, to acknowledge that I didn't belong here with her or her brother, but before anything came out, she beamed at me. "Hi, Bella. It's nice to meet you." Good-naturedly, she rolled her eyes at herself. "Well, you know, officially meet you, since we don't really talk much in Spanish."

My mouth was still open, now so much so that my jaw was beginning to ache. I might have said "hi" in response, but I couldn't be certain of anything since I was pretty sure I was living in an episode of _The Twilight Zone. _Eventually, I came to my senses enough to glance at Edward, who was watching his sister very closely. I had no clue what was going on.

I refused to look behind me, but I could feel several sets of eyes on me. Jessica was probably having an aneurism. Neither Alice nor Edward made a sound. I was the outsider, so I didn't bother breaking the ice, not that I had the vaguest idea how.

Escaping from Edward's stare, Alice smiled warmly at me. "So, Bella, are you planning on going to the dance next weekend?"

Even though this was exactly the same topic that had driven me to the brink of insanity the day before, I was so enamored with the fact that Alice Cullen was speaking to me like she and I were on the same level that I didn't care. "No." I recognized the disgust in my own voice. "I don't dance. At all. Ever."

Edward's lips twisted into a smile. "That's probably smart, given how you can barely walk without fatal injury." He bit his lip; something told me he hadn't planned on saying that.

Edward blurting out something involuntarily, which was usually my downfall, made me laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not offended," I said to him. "It's completely true."

He smiled again but stopped when he caught his sister staring at him. I felt compelled to rescue him from whatever had him squirming under the weight of her gaze. "So, Alice," even saying her name made feel insecure, "are you going?"

She shook her head. "My family isn't really into school-sanctioned activities. Are we, Edward?"

"Not really," he agreed dryly.

"I hear you on that one," I mumbled. I picked at my pizza, too tense to actually take a bite. When I looked at Edward's and Alice's trays, I noticed they hadn't eaten anything either.

"Oh!" Alice's exclamation made me jump. "Edward, I need your car keys." He appraised her skeptically. "I just thought of something that's going on later in gym, and I really don't want to stick around for it. I think I need to skip out early today."

Edward's face suddenly changed from skepticism to understanding. He dropped the keys into her waiting hand. To my surprise, she rose immediately from her seat.

"It was really nice meeting you, Bella. I'm sorry, but I have to go; if I leave now, I can hit the sidewalk sales in Port Angeles before the good stuff is gone." She winked. "Maybe we can get to know each other better tomorrow." Then, Alice darted out of the cafeteria before I could even bat an eyelash at her bizarre behavior.

When I returned my attention to Edward, I was a bit surprised to see him smiling sheepishly at me. When he didn't say anything, I filled the silence. "Your sister reminds me of you."

This caught him off guard. "How so?"

"You're both ridiculously mysterious. What was that about, anyway?"

He groaned. "Alice just…does that sometimes."

"Meaning…?"

"She's very impulsive. Also, she meddles where she shouldn't." Quickly, he added, "Part of the reason she left so abruptly was because she thought you were uncomfortable."

"That's silly. She didn't make me uncomfortable." The entire situation with Edward and anyone connected with him practically gave me a heart attack, but Alice herself wasn't really the problem. "I actually thought she was pretty nice. I wasn't expecting that."

He raised his eyebrows. "You thought she'd be cruel to you?"

I took a deep breath and made a decision. "I thought she'd treat me like you used to."

Edward folded his hands on the table, then changed his mind and ran one through his hair. To his credit, he didn't hide behind false ignorance. "I had my reasons for being cold to you. It was necessary…I don't know, perhaps that's still the best way."

"'The best way?' What are you talking about?"

He refused to make eye contact. "I told you before that I'm not the kind of person you should be spending time with."

"Edward, stop." I put up a hand in front of his face to keep him from going off on a dangerous tangent. I needed to be as honest as possible with him if I was ever going to convince him that I wasn't chasing after him like some love-struck teenager. "I just want to be friends with you. I think you're by far the most interesting person in this godforsaken place. If you make me go back over there," I jerked my head in the direction of my usual lunch table, "my brain is going to rot away until there is nothing left. Jessica's play-by-play of each episode of _Laguna Beach _alone makes my IQ drop ten points. So, compared to that, I prefer talking to you. Is that so wrong? Stop avoiding me, stop worrying. I'm not—" I forced myself to choke it out. "I don't like you like that." I was blushing, but I hoped this didn't detract from my impromptu speech.

For an eternity, Edward nodded his head slowly, not speaking, not showing a single ounce of emotion. Finally, his lips drew into a tight line, and he spoke in a controlled voice. "I knew that already." He took a bite of the apple on his tray, practically tearing the core in half with his teeth. It was the first thing he'd eaten since we'd sat down. I should have been relieved that my admitting I had no romantic feelings for him finally gave him back his appetite, but I wasn't. Instead, I just felt numb.

The numbness frightened me. I knew that if I didn't stick to my plan of befriending Edward, the nothingness would consume me. I would never get over the superficial crush I had on him, and it would ruin me. Worse yet, it would ruin Jacob. I wasn't capable of being my old self until I fixed whatever it was that turned me into someone I barely recognized. I had to resolve this, or else the emptiness would swallow me whole. Before I knew what was happening, I heard myself say, "Please don't freak out, Edward. Please don't walk away. I just—I think we could be friends." Blindly, I continued, "You're the only person in this school I feel like I can talk to."

_Too far, Bella. You've crossed the line. _

"I know what you mean."

_And now he's crossed it, too. _

He looked terrified at what he'd admitted, even though my own confession was far more needy and pathetic. My heart fell into my stomach at the idea of him being uncomfortable, so, sacrificing what little dignity I had left, I gathered up my courage and smiled at him. Almost reluctantly, he grinned back. The expression reached his eyes, and I couldn't believe someone like him was looking at someone like me so invitingly, so kindly.

"So, friends?" Exerting extreme control to prevent it from trembling, I held out my hand to him across the table, expecting him to shake it as if we'd just made a business deal.

He didn't take my hand, but he nodded and said, "Friends."

For the next few minutes, neither one of us said a single word. Despite our silence, I wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, I felt a familiar warmth in my chest, a feeling I'd never felt within the confines of Forks High School. I was at peace. I wasn't a bundle of nerves. I wasn't annoyed. I wasn't alone. Even though the feeling would vanish as soon as I knocked Edward off of the pedestal I'd placed him on in my subconscious, in this moment, I was so incredibly grateful to have him in my life. I knew whatever we had wouldn't last long, so I savored it while I could. Ultimately, this sort of perfection was always fleeting…not that I had ever experienced anything like it before to really know for certain.

I finally took in a bite of my pizza, thinking that now would be a good time to get some answers. I smiled at him mischievously before asking, "So, if we're friends, will you tell me why you looked at me in English on the first day of school like I'd just rolled in horse manure?"

He playfully sneered in my direction, which I attributed to him being amused at my refusal to back down. Patronizingly, he replied, "Maybe you really did stink, Bella."

"Fine. I give up. You and your secrets…" I was incapable of being angry with him, not now when we were finally getting somewhere.

"Don't be so critical. I'm sure you have secrets of your own."

"Not really," I scoffed. "I pretty much tell you everything I'm thinking." _Almost. _"It's infuriating, actually."

Edward leaned back in his chair. "I don't have the slightest idea of what runs through your head. _That _is infuriating."

"Well, ditto."

One side of his mouth curled up. The crooked smile animated his entire face. "I know I'm going to regret this, but if you want to know something, just ask."

I was suspicious of his openness. "So I can ask you about anything?"

"Of course." He spotted my cynical reaction immediately. "That doesn't necessarily mean I'll answer, but you can ask me anything. Any time."

Regardless of his open invitation, I wasn't about to waste a single second. "Okay. Here's a question for you: Why is it that you shun everyone at this school? You could be Mr. Popularity if you wanted. Yet, you choose not to; you hide like I do. I'm not sure I understand why."

I needed him to say he thought he was better than the rest of us, to prove that he was stuck up. I was looking for a crack in his perfect façade, but he disappointed me.

"I don't belong with these people. I suppose you could say that I grew up a long time ago, and I can't pretend that I'm just like everyone else. They don't understand me, and I don't understand them. I live in a different world than they do." His eyes gently wandered over my face. "What about you? There are quite a few people around here who want to get into your head, to know you better." He looked down at the mangled apple core on his tray. I had to strain my ears to hear him add, "Aside from me, of course."

I crossed my fingers and prayed that my face wasn't as red as it felt. "I don't want them to know me. I'll never be like any of them. I just don't want the same things that they do. I mean, I think popularity would be my worst nightmare."

"You don't want people to like you?" he asked quietly, without accusation or disbelief.

"I hate being the center of attention. I just want to live my life without an audience." Somehow, without me realizing it, he'd turned the focus of the conversation to me. It was time for me to take back the reins. "What about you? Aren't you close to anyone aside from your family?"

His words came out fast. "Not really. I don't need anyone else in my life but them."

Full of doubt, I gaped at him. "No one can put a quota on how many people they let into their lives, Edward. That's a pretty defeatist attitude." I smiled deprecatingly. "And this is coming from me, the perpetual loner, so that's really saying something."

Edward was unexpectedly wistful. "It's usually not a problem. I'm extremely fortunate to have my parents, my brothers and sisters. They are more than I deserve, really. Plus, as I've said before, I read people very well, and I know better than to bother with most of them."

"But you can't read me." Suddenly, I understood. "Which is why you keep talking to me, right?"

He took his time coming up with an answer. "I've known a lot of people and lived in more places than I can count, but you—" He stopped himself and locked his jaw. "You're different, different from anyone I've ever encountered."

I let my hair fall over my face to create a necessary barrier between us. "Give me time, Edward, and you'll see that I'm not."

He was playing the same game I was, biding his time until I did something to show him just how unappealing I could be. If he hadn't figured it out already, he wouldn't have to wait long; I was nothing if not excruciatingly ordinary.

Students filtered by us en route to the door, indicating the lunch hour was coming to a close. Edward was on his feet in a flash, but he waited for me before walking to English. As we passed through the cafeteria's glass double doors, I spotted my own reflection. I barely recognized myself. I usually slouched when in a crowd of people so that I was closer to the ground in case I stumbled, but in my reflection, I saw that I stood up straight, walking sure-footedly next to a boy who I would have otherwise thought was a hologram if not for the way his forearm had brushed lightly against mine as we squeezed past the sea of our classmates in the hallway. More shocking than my confident posture was my face; instead of my usual hollow indifference, my cheeks were pink and my eyes sparkled just a bit, even under the unforgiving lighting.

My newfound joy was beyond problematic to the point of catastrophe. Edward did this to me. This meant my plan was spinning out of control. I searched the pit of my stomach for guilt or at least panic, but I found only harmony. I searched deeper, finally hearing a tiny voice screaming out warnings the rest of me refused to heed. I knew what the voice wanted, that I run for the hills and never speak to my newest friend ever again, but I didn't care. For once, I wasn't worried about the right choice; all I knew is that Edward made my day enjoyable.

I was allowed to have friends.

I wasn't doing anything wrong.

I wasn't about to give him up.

X X X

The shrill ringing of the bell in History signaled the end of the school day. I sauntered out into a mob of restless underclassmen, my eyes peeled for a single, specific member of the senior class. I knew he didn't have a way home, thanks to Alice skipping off during lunch with his car, so I was willing to be a good friend and offer him a ride, even if it meant being late to work.

I raced through the hallways, needing to catch him before he could call someone to come pick him up. I nearly trampled Mike to death in my rush past his locker.

"Bella!" He looked worried. "Did you hear what happened to Jessica in gym?"

"No…" I would have blown him off if not for the terrified pitch in his voice. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know; they were climbing rope, and she made it to the top." If this was about how Mike was impressed with Jessica's upper body strength, I'd kill him. "Anyway, she lost her grip and crashed to the floor. She landed past the mats, near the railing of the bleachers."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah," Mike said hurriedly. "People keep saying she impaled herself on something, because there was so much blood, but I think that's just a rumor. At least, I hope it is." He looked down at the floor, and I remembered his and Jessica's longstanding on and off flirtation with each other. I had a feeling it may be on yet again. "I'm going over to the hospital to see what's up. Do you want to come with?"

I shook my head. "I have to work, remember? But if you find out anything, give me a call at the store, okay?"

My stomach grew queasy out of guilt when I thought of how I'd badmouthed Jessica to Edward just hours earlier. It was inevitable that other forms of guilt over the lunch hour would soon follow. As punishment, I let go of my mission to offer Edward a ride home and headed alone to the parking lot.

My shoulders slumped as I spotted an unmistakable flash of hair the color of a penny disappear into a red BMW. The car was stunning, completely out of place in Forks, but it was nothing compared to its driver. She was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen in the flesh, with long blond hair that cascaded past her shoulders and lips as red as her car. Her shirt was cut so low that I never saw where the neckline appeared behind the steering wheel. She was a living, breathing reminder of who I was and where I belonged. She was the female equivalent of Edward; like the shining, exquisite BMW, it made perfect sense that he belonged to her.

As Edward and his girlfriend sped out of the parking lot, they passed my truck and I noticed for the first time how faded, dull, and lifeless its paint was. I started the ignition and pulled out onto the street. The truck barely reached half the speed of the BMW, despite my best efforts to gun the engine. Unlike me, my truck knew what it was capable of, what its limits were. I should have known better than to drive it too fast. I wouldn't make that mistake twice.


	18. Pumpkins

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Pumpkins**

After losing her grip during a rope-climbing exercise in gym class, Jessica Stanley fell twenty feet and landed face first on a metal railing. This accident cost her two teeth and seventeen stitches on her forehead but simultaneously granted her access to Mike Newton's affections. When I walked into her hospital room, she flashed me a toothless smile and informed me, "It was totally worth it."

Out of guilt, I paid Jessica a visit on Monday after my shift at Newton Outfitters ended. Thankfully, the rumors that she had been impaled by the railing were false, and despite the distance she fell, her injuries were relatively minor. Her doctor informed her she could return to school in two days, but Jessica told me she planned on holding out until her teeth were fixed.

My inquiries into her health were of little consequence; instead, Jessica was extremely excited to discuss the resurgence of her relationship with Mike. They dated briefly our junior year, and now that Jessica had a damsel-in-distress quality to her, Mike apparently wanted a second chance.

"As soon as I woke up from the anesthesia, my mom told me he'd been in the waiting room the whole time. He brought me flowers and everything." She was glowing; even the purplish bruises around the bridge of her nose couldn't offset the sparkle in her eyes. "I think that we may be getting back together. I just wish all of this," she gestured to her face, "would disappear in time for the dance this weekend. I mean, there's no way I'm going out in public until this heals. And Mike is supposed to take that sophomore with him, but I'm sure he'd go stag if I asked him to…" She drifted off and looked at me expectantly.

"Uh, yeah, maybe, Jess."

This pacified her, and the dopey smile returned to her lips. "I am in a ton of pain, Bella, but I still feel so _fantastic_. I mean, have you ever just felt you had no control over yourself, like love was, like, controlling you instead?"

I couldn't help it; I scrunched up my nose. "That sounds kind of awful." I preferred to be in control at all times and had no idea what Jessica was talking about. I couldn't understand why anyone would give up the right to choose which path their life follows.

Jessica rolled her eyes at me, but the smile never left her face. "Oh, Bella, it's awesome. I've been thinking about him a lot lately, and now it's really happening between us. I never would've thought we'd actually get back together. Like, just last week, when I found out he asked Hannah Lewis to the dance, I went home and cried my eyes out. I felt the worst, the absolute _worst_ I've ever felt in my entire life." The brief flicker of despair in her eyes changed to an almost loopy blissfulness. "But now, I think everything's going to work out, and I can't stop smiling. Even though I'm missing teeth and look terrible, I just can't stop smiling."

She wasn't lying. Jessica's grin was plastered on her face the entire thirty minutes I spent next to her bed. We talked more about Jessica's love-induced euphoria, and I hadn't realized how one-sided the conversation had been until Jessica suddenly turned the spotlight on me. "So does it feel like this all the time?"

My brow furrowed. "What?"

"Love, silly. Do you always feel like this?" Her voice took on a slightly worried tone. "Or does it fade after awhile?"

I studied Jessica's face before answering her question. Her lips curled up as evidence of her maniacal joy, and I couldn't recall ever feeling that kind of happiness. For the most part, I was always in the driver's seat when it came to my emotions. With Jake, our love had blossomed slowly, so slowly that I never felt like I had _fallen_ in love at all; rather, it was as if I'd taken baby steps until one day I arrived at the conclusion that we belonged together. Our love for each other wasn't reckless like whatever it was Jessica was feeling. Jacob and I had something different, something more than just blind lust; we trusted each other in a way that made our love more responsible and true.

Jessica studied me in anticipation, and I was jarred out of my thoughts. "I think love is different for everyone, Jess." She appraised me suspiciously, prompting me to lie. "Whatever it is that you're feeling, I guess it doesn't have to fade if you don't want it to." I had my suspicions that teenage hormones fueled Jessica's current state of ecstasy. Of course what she felt for Mike would fade away with time. No one can build a relationship on irresponsible, ever-changing desire.

I stole one more glance at Jessica before leaving the hospital to go home. She waved good bye to me, beaming idiotically, and then turned to run her fingers over the petals of the daisies spilling out of a vase at her bedside. Internally, I groaned. Maybe it wasn't lust at all; maybe Jessica had just been given some very potent painkillers.

Once I got home, I discovered that Jessica's questions frustrated me, although I couldn't understand why. To take my mind off of her and her love-struck ramblings, I spent the night on the phone with Jake discussing his latest plans for souping up the Rabbit. Even though I was lost when it came to carburetors and horsepower, I found his enthusiastic descriptions were the perfect distraction. I purposefully avoided talking about myself, since doing so would only invite questions that I wasn't really prepared to answer. Eventually, midnight rolled around, and we ended our conversation. I was too tired to work on any homework, especially the mountain of Spanish translations that were due in the morning, and ultimately, I passed out on my bed with the lights still on and a textbook open on my lap.

X X X

My laziness caught up with me the next morning. I was in a mad rush to get out of the house on time, and I just barely made it to my seat in first period before the sound of the bell faded. Mrs. Goff spouted out perfect, rapid-fire Spanish, unfairly expecting us to respond in kind at eight o'clock in the morning. I practically rolled my eyes when she seemed angry that no one was as enthusiastic as she was about the plot of _Don_ _Quixote_.

Instinctively, Mrs. Goff seemed to sense my annoyance. Staring directly at me, she pointedly inquired, "¿Puede alguien describir por qué mintió Sancho a Don Quijote acerca de Dulcinea?"

Of course, no one was raising their hand to save me. Even though she hadn't yet called on me, my face was turning crimson. I hadn't made it halfway through the assignment; I couldn't even fake a sensible answer.

Mrs. Goff's eyes narrowed minutely. "Bel—"

Before Mrs. Goff could eke out my name, Alice Cullen fired off an answer in seemingly flawless Spanish. Mrs. Goff seemed a bit surprised, but Alice's answer pleased her. "Muy bien, Senorita Cullen." Her eyes left me, and I hoped to catch Alice's to thank her, but she never turned to meet my gaze.

I endured the rest of the class period unscathed. When the hour was up, I made a bee line for Alice, who was taking her time gathering up her books. Despite her friendliness at lunch the day before, I was still nervous approaching her. Quietly, so Mrs. Goff wouldn't overhear, I took a deep breath and mumbled, "Thanks."

Alice flashed a megawatt smile. "Sure thing, Bella." To my surprise, she walked with me down the hallway. "You're joining us for lunch again today, aren't you?" She seemed hopeful.

"I, um, I think so, as long as I'm welcome."

My words confused her. "Why wouldn't you be?"

I flushed, unable to come up with a reasonable answer to her question.

She sensed my distress and warmly added, "I think I speak for Edward when I say we'd both be very disappointed if you weren't at our table." She grinned and then flitted off into a classroom, leaving me simultaneously relieved and baffled in her wake.

During the next three class periods, I obsessed over her words. I hadn't imagined that she said _'both _Edward and I.' What did that mean? Did he talk about me to her? If so, what did he say? It had to be something positive, or she wouldn't insinuate that he also wanted me to join them for lunch.

An intimidatingly beautiful blonde popped into my thoughts, and I reminded myself that Edward had no romantic feelings for me. After all, yesterday I saw with my own eyes the kind of girl he runs with. And besides, I had Jake.

I did my best to ignore my guilt over how Jake had only been an afterthought to my jealousy over Edward's curvaceous girlfriend. The bell rang to signal the end of fourth period, and I bolted for the cafeteria. I wasn't used to my newfound exuberance for the lunch hour and thus arrived in the cafeteria before the majority of my classmates, including the Cullens. I made my way through the sparse line and hesitantly sat at their table. I was too nervous to start eating, certain that at any moment, Edward would show up and demand that I relocate to my old table where Lauren already sat admiring herself in her compact mirror. Or, worse yet, that he'd ignore me entirely and sit elsewhere.

My focus remained on obsessive-compulsively tapping my fingertips against the cold, plastic tray, so I didn't notice him come up behind me. "That looks disgusting," he said, referring to the rock-hard meatloaf I'd selected for lunch. He didn't sound disgusted, though… In fact, he was in high spirits, a grin playing at his mouth.

As the panic evaporated from my body, I shrugged for lack of a better response and took a sip of my lemonade. He eased himself into the chair across from me, not bothering to blink as he watched me. When I didn't speak, he asked, "So, anything new?" It still blew my mind how intently he waited as I formulated an answer. How I would miss that once he grew tired of me…

"Jessica Stanley's little accident in P.E. yesterday seems to have reunited her and Mike Newton?" It came out as a question because I wasn't sure how he'd respond to idle high school gossip. I had nothing better to discuss, at least nothing I had the courage to bring up, so I gambled against the odds that he'd find this an acceptable topic of conversation.

To my relief, he smirked wickedly, signaling his interest. "It must break your heart that Newton's found a new object to shower with his affection."

My eyes practically rolled into the back of my head. Of course, Edward would bring _that _up. "Yes, well, a girl can only say no a million times or so before Mike gets the message."

"Oh, I wouldn't put too much stock in the idea that he's given up on you. Just give him the word, and I'm sure he would come running." Edward was teasing me, but there was an edge to his tone.

I made a face. "Bite me."

He stopped laughing, and the light that had been dancing in his eyes faded to black.

"What?" Had I offended him somehow? Just in case, I kept talking to cover myself. "I think Mike Newton is only sought after by a certain type of girl. A certain type of girl who is not me." I smiled sheepishly. I wished he'd say something so I didn't feel so weird.

As if the gods heard my silent prayer, Alice arrived, bouncing gracefully into her seat. "So what are we talking about?" she asked, appearing oblivious to Edward's suddenly sour mood. "Types?" Turning to me, she continued, "So what's your type, Bella?"

Edward picked up his spoon and absentmindedly swirled invisible patterns in his soup.

Alice was smiling brightly at me, so, even though I didn't want to, I attempted to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't really have one. I've, um, only dated one person, so… I guess I would say my type is Not Mike Newton. That's all I've got, sorry." My traitorous cheeks were flaming. I refused to even look to see what Edward was doing now.

Alice leaned back in her chair, obviously at ease despite the tension that surrounded her. "So, what is your boyfriend like, then? I mean, he would be your type, right?"

My knees were literally shaking under the table. Of all the topics of conversation, this had to be the one that I never wanted to discuss in Edward's presence. "Jake's great. He's my best friend." My voice was childlike and quiet. "He's younger than me, but he's really easy to talk to."

Alice shook her head. "That's not what I mean." She leaned closer to me. Now seemed like an inappropriate time to notice she smelled nice. "Is he cute?"

"I guess."

She glanced at Edward, and her lips curled into a tiny, unfathomable smirk. "You guess?"

I just nodded, not sure what she was getting at.

She opened her mouth to continue, but Edward stopped her cold. "Did you get the reading assignment for English finished?" He sounded almost hoarse, but he was rescuing me yet again, so I didn't pay much attention to his tone.

I was a little embarrassed admitting I'd slacked off the night before. "No, not this time. I'm crossing my fingers that there's not a quiz or anything."

Alice was practically pouting from her seat. Picking up her tray, she uttered some excuse about needing to look for something in her locker and left Edward and me alone for the second time in as many days.

We spoke only about class-related topics, anything Jake-related long forgotten, which made the remainder of our time together at lunch stilted but not uninteresting. I still hadn't grown accustomed to sitting across from Edward rather than at his side as I did in English, so I'd never noticed how motionless his body was the majority of the time. That was, until he realized I was watching him, after which he would make some minor movement, almost as if consciously putting on a show for me. Sometimes he'd shift in his seat, other times he'd run a hand through his hair. My favorite was how he'd put his forearms on the table and lean forward ever so slightly. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and I liked looking at the contrast between the white marble of his skin and the gray Formica tabletop. He wore a watch, which looked expensive and hung a little loose around his wrist, loose enough that I could slip a finger in the gap between the leather strap and his flesh. _I want to touch him_, I realized. His hair, his hands, his forearms, everything he moved, I wanted to grab or, at the very least, run my fingers across.

The memory of his girlfriend only made it worse. Strangely, her mere existence made me feel more comfortable ogling him. He had someone and so did I, and they acted like alarms that would stop me if I went too far, silent and invisible security sensors that would keep any real danger at bay. My mind, though, was private, belonging only to me, and I indulged myself. I was still in control of reality, but I let myself dream because soon enough, the dream would disappear.

Like yesterday, we strolled to English together. He walked a pace or two to my left, but I kept moving closer the longer we walked. When Eric Yorkie barreled past us, I bumped gingerly against Edward's shoulder, and the sensation sent my heart flying. I was exhausted over trying to suppress it, so I let it pound away in my chest and found that I enjoyed letting go.

Edward spotted Mr. Berty before I did. "Uh oh," he murmured under his breath.

I followed his gaze to the stack of papers in our teacher's arms, a stack that could only mean one thing. "Quiz," I responded in an equally hushed tone.

Edward nodded. Without considering the repercussions of what I was about to suggest, I looked up at him, enjoying the close proximity even if it meant straining my neck, and boldly suggested, "Let's get out of here."

Edward had finished his reading and had a knock-out girlfriend likely meeting him after school, so he did the right thing. "I can't." He refused to look down at me, the overeager girl almost hopping up and down before him.

The rejection stung, even though I knew it was coming. Out of pride, I refused to walk into the classroom and take my seat next to him. "Fine," I replied. "See you later." I stalked off in the opposite direction, trying not to stomp like an unruly child, and pushed open the heavy double doors that headed to the student parking lot.

_You're skipping school_, I told myself, adjusting to the idea. I'd never skipped before, not even when I knew I'd be picked last for volleyball in gym or when I'd realized I'd written my sophomore English speech on the wrong topic. But today, I was skipping. And it felt good. It was barely misting outside, the October leaves brilliantly colored but wet against the shiny pavement. Against the cold breeze that filtered around me, I felt free.

Hopping in my truck with a self-reliant smile dancing on my lips, I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing.

My one moment of regret-free rebellion, ruined by a dead battery. "Only you, Bella," I said aloud to myself in my rearview mirror. I let three minutes pass before giving the engine a third and final attempt. Forever nothing.

My head drooped, my chin scraping my sternum as I opened the driver's side door, defeated. When I looked up, my breath caught in my throat. I had grown so used to my truck's roaring engine that I'd forgotten other cars traveled in silence. This explained how I'd failed to notice the silver Volvo that idled next to my comatose truck.

A _swoosh_ filled the soundless void between the two vehicles as Edward lowered his window. "You win. Let's go." Everything about him, even the cold black leather of his car's interior, was suddenly warm and inviting.

Without a moment's hesitation, I splashed through the tiny pools of water on the pavement and flung open the front passenger door. I knew we were crossing more lines by spending time together outside school property, but nothing could have talked me out of getting into his car.

The interior smelled like him, somehow sweet like honey. I bit my top lip in order to keep a toothy grin from forming. "You changed your mind."

"I've been known to do that every once in awhile." He shifted the Volvo into drive.

"How did you make your escape?"

He turned to me. His face shifted from amusement to agony. Taking a hand off the wheel, he placed it on his stomach and convincingly told me, "I'm suddenly not feeling very well."

I laughed, perhaps a bit too loud, and his feigned illness transformed into a devious grin.

"Well, I'm glad," I said, still giggling like I was being tickled. "Otherwise, I'd have to swallow my pride and go back in there; my truck wouldn't start."

He didn't respond, focusing his attention on the road. It was then that I realized I had no idea where we were headed. "So," I asked, "what's the plan?" I was giddy, likely high from feeling like I was Bonnie to Edward's Clyde.

"There is no plan. I'm driving you home." He seemed to infer that he thought a ride home was what I wanted.

"No way," I spouted off with such fervor that Edward raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You may skip school all the time, but this is a first for me. I can't just go _home_. I have to do something fun."

"Fun?" I could tell he had no idea what to make of me.

"Or at least memorable."

I watched as he had some sort of silent debate with himself. Luckily, his eventual response told me the right side won. "Where to, then?"

My usual self-consciousness typically would have taken over at this point, but I felt so at ease with Edward that I just blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. "You know, I haven't gotten a pumpkin in years."

"A pumpkin, huh?" Edward said nothing about the wet fog that permeated the air around us or the simple bizarreness of my idea. Instead, his eyes twinkled, almost as if he understood the reasoning behind my sudden need for a pumpkin.

"You don't sound surprised."

Edward stole a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. "Bella, everything you say is a surprise." The smile he wore on his face kept me from feeling embarrassed over my childish request. "I'm guessing you have somewhere in mind."

"Make a right at the stop sign and head outside of town."

He complied, not once making me feel as if I needed to explain myself to him. This, of course, only made me want to tell him everything, no matter how inconsequential. "My mother used to take me to get a pumpkin every year when I was a kid, right before Halloween. We never actually got around to carving any of them, so it eventually became this joke where we'd sit a plain old pumpkin out on the stoop every October." I was wistful until I remembered what I would inevitably discover on the morning of November 1st. "But then some jerk would always smash it to pieces." I sighed, cheered up by the fact that my dull little story seemed to entertain Edward. "At least we didn't go to the trouble of actually putting any work into it."

"My mother and Alice do that every year. They love Halloween."

I cocked my head to the side. "Edward Cullen, did you just _voluntarily _offer up information about yourself?" I asked in mock awe.

"Careful with the taunting or it won't happen again," he shot back, his smile betraying his idle threat.

We pulled into the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of Forks. It was owned by a local farmer and doubled as a Christmas tree lot in December. The evergreens waved in the breeze in front of us, a flash of orange far off in the distance.

I was wearing beat up sneakers, so I had no qualms about trudging through the mud to get to the pumpkins, but Edward's feet were another story. I grimaced. "Your shoes look really expensive. Why don't you wait here and I can go—"

He waved his hand dismissively in my direction. He was already halfway past the first row of trees before I finished exiting the car. "Hey, wait up!"

Edward had no problem navigating through the muck and tree branches, but I barely remained upright during our trek toward the pumpkin patch. He caught me once or twice before I could do any real damage to myself. Every time his arm grazed mine, my stomach flip flopped. To test myself, I faked losing my balance, preparing myself in advance for his touch; it didn't matter, even if I knew it was coming, I couldn't keep the jitters away. The thing was, they weren't the worst feeling in the world; there was something so fresh and vivid about the butterflies in my gut.

As we reached the rows of orange orbs, I searched for a distraction. Like most of my actions in Edward's presence, I didn't foresee the statement that fell out of my mouth; maybe subconsciously I knew I needed more than a distraction… Maybe I needed a reminder, a boundary line. "So, your girlfriend is really beautiful." My voice was controlled, appropriate for casual conversation. At least, I hoped it was.

His head shot up from the mammoth pumpkin at his feet. "What?" He looked lost. I attributed it to being freaked out at the thought that I was stalking him.

"Oh, I saw her yesterday. In the parking lot. Her car is so—"

"She is _not _my girlfriend." The words seemed to disgust him. He sounded like a fourth grader at recess accused of liking the class pariah, usually the chubby girl or the one with hideously crooked teeth.

"Um, sorry." I was embarrassed by my brazenness, but something else also lurked inside me. After a second or so, I recognized what it was: relief. Unabashed, releasing relief. This realization shamed me even further, compounded with the fact that Edward was scrutinizing every slight movement of my face.

"You thought Rosalie was my girlfriend? _Rosalie_?! What _on Earth _gave you that idea?" His face shifted into a dozen expressions that suggested shock, abhorrence, and intense confusion.

It's never a good idea to blabber incoherently when you're completely mortified, but I was too far gone to make that assessment. "What? It's not that crazy. She's beautiful and you're, you know, perfect. You understandably have zero interest in anyone at school, and she's the only person I've ever seen who can even play in your league, so…" I trailed off at the bewildered expression shadowing his complexion.

For a few moments, he stood stoically still and speechless. I stepped away from him to examine the pumpkins. Eventually, I drifted further and further away from where he remained rooted in the mud. I let my mind wander and came to the conclusion that my theory about this Rosalie wasn't that ludicrous. He had to know how gorgeous she was and how gorgeous he was. Gorgeous people fit together; I was pretty sure Darwin's theory regarding survival of the fittest included some provision along those lines.

Entire minutes passed with Edward and me drifting aimlessly on opposite sides of the pumpkin patch. I didn't even hear him approach until he was mere feet from where I attempted to lift a pumpkin twice the size of my head. I looked up to see he still displayed the same confused look on his face. "Oomf," I exhaled as I lost my battle with the giant pumpkin and fell flat on my backside.

He stifled a laugh, his face finally breaking into a new, gentler expression. "Rosalie is my sister," he said simply. "Not biologically, mind you, but my sister nonetheless. Also, she's incredibly stubborn, rude, and vain. Hence, my revulsion at your incredibly misguided assumption."

"It wasn't that misguided," I disagreed, pulling myself to my feet. I hoisted a smaller pumpkin to my hip and headed over to the dilapidated card table near the entrance to pay. "Do you want a pumpkin or not?" I fumbled in my pocket, pulled out a wad of one-dollar bills, and waved them at him. "It's on me. To commemorate my first skipped afternoon of high school."

He shook his head, distracted. I paid the disinterested cashier, and we repeated our muddy march back to his car. On the way, Edward emerged from his silence and asked, "What did you mean by 'my league'?"

I didn't bother hiding my exasperated groan. "Not this again." He nodded anyway, urging me to explain myself. I sighed and continued, "You're kind of…really attractive, alright?" My face flushed, but I didn't stop talking and muttered, "Like you don't know. Nobody even feels like approaching you because you're just completely out of everyone's league. You're pretty intimidating."

This appeared to be news to Edward. He was dumbfounded, and had I not been humiliated, I would have reveled in it. "Do I intimidate you?" Strangely, he seemed utterly naive as what my response would be.

We'd reached the Volvo, but neither of us climbed in. I bent down to scrape the mud off my shoes, meaning I conveniently was unable to stare him back in the eye. "Not as much as everyone else. I mean, I at least talk to you."

He walked around and opened up the driver's door. "Only because I talk to you."

I thrust my own door ajar and plopped down against the icy leather. "You are so ridiculously arrogant, Edward."

He shrugged and smirked in my direction. I glared back but felt pangs of guilt over my earlier rudeness. "Hey, I'm sorry about thinking you were dating your sister." I meant to sound sincere, but I couldn't help laughing at how my apology came out, which weakened its impact.

Edward appeared on the verge of gagging. "Yes, thank you for reminding me," he replied sardonically. "Rosalie, ugh."

"Yeah, what an insult. I am so sorry that I thought the most beautiful woman in all of Washington was your girlfriend. How terrible of me."

He grimaced at me in response.

"What? Do you normally date trolls? The morbidly obese? Girls with back hair?" My laughter faded at Edward's sudden deflated appearance.

Never detracting his eyes from the windshield, he coldly muttered, "I don't date anyone. Not ever."

"That's…that's not possible." My jaw was suspended inches below my upper lip, so wide that I could feel the warm air from the heating vents hit the back of my throat. "I mean, someone has to have gotten to you. Look at you; you're just, just _wonderful_." And there it was. I was gushing. Over him. Out loud.

Somehow, none of this registered with Edward. He recovered in an instant, the calculated haughtiness rising back under his well-defined cheek bones. I wasn't falling for his tricks, though. It was a mask. He was scared. I didn't know what of, but I intended to find out.

"Why is that?" I asked, unafraid.

His reply was prepared, safe; he knew my question was coming. "I have a very low tolerance for most people."

"Ah." Hoping to cheer him up, I spoke the tried and true cliché, "Well, you'll find someone. I mean, I did, and I run and hide from mostly everyone. So there's definitely hope for you." My admissions about myself were accidental. The last thing I wanted was to turn the conversation onto my own love life, which was hanging on by a thread at this point.

"Yes, you did. You found someone." Edward's tone was resigned. "And you're happy."

"Sure." My answer was identical to the one I gave dental hygienists who asked me if I flossed twice daily. For someone who claimed to be an expert at reading people, Edward didn't seem to notice the pain behind my voice.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Do you want my pumpkin? Would that make you feel better?"

I was so serious, the question so ludicrous, that he erupted in spontaneous laughter. "No, Bella, I think you should keep your pumpkin."

I lifted it off my lap and placed it on the arm rest between us. "Here, take it. You can carve a scowl into the side, and it can be the most brooding pumpkin on the block."

He rubbed his jaw, thinking. "Is that what you think of me? You think I brood too much?"

"You say that like it's a surprise. Have you seen you?" I smiled at him to show him I was only teasing; he already seemed almost fragile, I didn't want to make him feel any worse.

"Funny." Our eyes met. Too much time had passed since he last looked at me. "So you think I should smile more?"

I laughed at the thought. "Lord, no. You'd give all the girls a heart attack. Plus, I wouldn't recognize you anymore." The truth was he'd give _me _the heart attack, and I could never forget how he looked when his lips turned up into that infamous crooked grin.

At some point, we'd arrived back at the high school. It was nearly three, and reality would soon come crashing back upon us both. To keep myself honest for Jacob, my hand drifted to the door latch.

"Thanks for skipping with me today, Edward." I wished my words hadn't sounded so bashful.

"Do your homework next time, Bella." That stupid lopsided grin of his was sending me into cardiac arrest.

"Will do, Mom." _God, I could keep this up forever. _Ashamed of the thought, I pushed the door open. He waited to see if my truck would spring to life. Miraculously, when I turned the key in the ignition, the engine awoke with it usual thunderous growl.

Before I could shift the gears into drive, I opened the door to tell him the obvious, that the truck was fine. He already stood nearby, my pumpkin in tow. He passed it into my arms, and I turned back to him and smiled. It wasn't my usual smile, not even the one I occasionally flashed him. It was wider, goofier. I could feel the corners of my mouth pull, my teeth exposed to the air. When I saw my reflection in my windshield, I recognized the strange, idiotic look on my face. Except for the presence of my two front teeth, I looked no different than Jessica Stanley in all her love-struck glory.

It was official. My plans to dislike Edward Cullen were out the window. I'd completely lost control. The feelings inside me were dangerous. I could only pray that they would fade with time. The thing was, I wasn't sure I wanted them to.


	19. Hallowed

**Chapter Nineteen Notes: **For those of you who live in a bubble and haven't seen _Rocky_, all you need to know for this chapter is that Adrienne is his soft-spoken woman who loves him unconditionally and runs to him, accompanied by swelling movie music, following his bloody boxing match at the end of the movie with Apollo Creed.

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: Hallowed**

"Do you want to explain why there's a pumpkin on your nightstand?"

"Only if you'll clue me in on why you're sporting a purplish doughnut around your left eye."

Jake and I squared off in the few feet of open floor space in my bedroom. Originally, we'd planned on spending the night slaying the homework demons that plagued us so we could attend a Halloween party down on the reservation on Saturday. Now, though, our plans crumbled thanks to the poorly concealed secrets we each desperately held onto that made normalcy unattainable. Neither of us would give in because the evidence against the other established we were hiding something. That evidence was vivid and impossible to ignore, screaming to Jacob in a vibrant shade of orange that something else had captured my attention and to me in muddled hues of black and blue that violence had somehow become part of his life.

"It's Halloween. Almost. I wanted to be festive." I arched an eyebrow at him, determined that his vault open first.

"I tripped." He took a step toward me to let me know he refused to back down.

This was not the beginning of our fight. Act One happened when he showed up on Charlie's doorstep looking like the end of _Rocky _and I wouldn't play the part of his Adrienne, refusing to coddle him and admire his machismo. Instead, I was wary. When my 'what the hell happened to your face' met with his 'I don't want to talk about it,' it started. I refused to reward him for likely losing his temper and getting half his face bashed in for undisclosed reasons. Conversely, Jake demanded resolution to my recent evasiveness, mainly centered around why I had a detention the day before that forced me to break off my plans with him Both of us asked too many questions, and we couldn't understand why the other had a problem with that.

Now, our anger simmered under a frustrated silence. Jake was stubborn, I was worse. Neither of us uttered a syllable for a solid twenty minutes.

I never fought with Jake, not when I was his friend who was a girl and not now that I was his girlfriend. I didn't know what to do. A heartfelt apology might appease him, but I wasn't sure what exactly I'd be apologizing for.

Needless to say, I had soul-crushing guilt over whatever it was that had ignited and spun out of control between Edward and me, but an 'I'm sorry' wouldn't smooth over that catastrophe. I couldn't even put what I was feeling into words, so explaining it to Jacob would be impossible. He'd interpret it the wrong way and think I was leaving him when it was the last thing on Earth I wanted to do. Maybe he'd ask me why I didn't just stop talking to Edward, why I didn't simply cut him out of my life. I'd be unable to lie. And then everything Jake and I had together would implode. He'd never be able to trust anyone again, and I'd condemn myself to the isolated, self-loathing emotional hell I deserved.

At most, I could apologize for not telling Jacob about all the little moments Edward and I shared at school, about how we spent the lunch hour talking nonstop about nothing and everything and English class exchanging knowing looks and hushed whispers when we disagreed with Mr. Berty's assessment of literary masterpieces. Cluing Jake in would be an obvious mistake, like confessing to drinking and driving when all you'd drank was two sips of an O'Doul's. After all, technically, I hadn't done anything wrong.

Still… I felt like the anti-Christ. Through my calculated omissions, I was deceiving the person I loved most in the world. The worst part was that I couldn't stop. Edward was oxygen for me. At last, I'd made a friend within the walls of Forks High School, someone to keep me sane amidst the socially exhausting monotony.

If only every nerve ending in my body didn't crave his touch like nicotine.

If only both my waking and unconscious existence didn't revolve around the thought of him running his long, white fingers over my exposed skin.

If only I didn't compulsively lick my lips when he crookedly curled up his.

Fortunately, my hormonal jail cell imprisoned only me. Even if I was too weak to resist him, Edward certainly had no problem resisting me. The evidence was everywhere, in the way he jumped a mile when I "accidentally" brushed my arm against his in crowded hallways to how he vanished off the face of the Earth at the end of the school day, not once asking me for my phone number or if we could grab a coffee after class. I was blind with lust and awe when it came to Edward Cullen, but to him, I was just the semi-amusing entertainment that made the school day pass by a little faster.

I frowned at Jacob, who glowered at me from under a crinkled forehead. I supposed Jake deserved to be mad at me, but there was no way he was angry for the reason he should have been. He couldn't possibly know I'd developed one-sided, non-platonic feelings for the unattainable Adonis across from me at the lunch table. I was perturbed but curious, so I bit the bullet and asked, "What do you have against pumpkins?"

He threw a glance over my shoulder, glaring at it like it just insulted his mother. "It's on your freaking _nightstand_, Bella."

True, it was a little weird to sleep inches from an overgrown squash, but I absentmindedly had carried it to my room two days earlier after my pumpkin patch excursion with Edward and hadn't yet bothered moving it to the corner of the porch where it would keep my mother's and my tradition alive. How could Jake have such hostility over a misplaced pumpkin? "I meant to move it, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Since when did you get so selective over nightstand décor?"

He marched across the floorboards and relegated the pumpkin to the floor, revealing the remainder of my bedside clutter. Among the empty water bottles and discarded tissues were a worn photo of Jake and I taken the day he first got the Rabbit up and running, a plastic mood ring Jake had won for me at a local carnival, and a framed four-leaf clover we'd found in my backyard. The photo had a recently acquired tear in the corner, and the frame had fallen over so it was face down against the tabletop.

Everything about him was tight and severe, his voice, his posture, the way he narrowed his eyelids. "I used to look at this table and feel like, in a way, I was sleeping next to you every night. The fact that you put this junk on display made me feel like I was special to you. For weeks now, you've let it all fall apart, like you don't care anymore."

"Subtle, Jake," I spat, my voice sharp and a bit shrill. "Spare me the obvious metaphors. I've been busy and haven't been cleaning my room. Plus, as you already know, I'm buried up to my eyeballs in Calculus homework and this stupid essay on the Brontes for English. It's nothing personal."

"Stop looking at me like I'm crazy. I keep telling you the same thing, but you won't listen: You're not my Bella these days, and I hate it." His hands tore at the curtain of hair hanging in his eyes, forcefully tucking a strand behind his ear. "I have absolutely no idea what's going on in your life. You have a detention, but you won't even tell me why. You're creepily quiet whenever we're together, and lately, you kiss me like a friggin' robot."

Something inside me snapped. _He _was critiquing my kissing? _Mr. Handsy McTonsil Hockey thinks there's something wrong with how I make out?_ I loved Jake to pieces, but our physical relationship certainly didn't compare to the emotional bond we shared. He kissed with passion, but I always wondered if it was because he was kissing me or because he was a sixteen-year-old boy kissing a girl with a pulse.

Maybe it was the baseball-sized bruise encircling his left eye that he refused to explain or maybe I'd just lost all compassion for anyone beyond myself, but whatever it was made me blurt out, "Well, at least I don't shove my tongue down your throat in some slobbery attempt to prove that I love you. At least when I touch you I'm doing it because it's _you _and not out of some hornball teenage lust. I swear, Jake, sometimes I think you kiss me for you and not for me, not for us."

Back in Phoenix, my mother kept old copies of _Cosmo _as reading material in our bathroom. I retained very little from those glossy pages, but I still recall an article entitled "Rules for Keeping Your Man," which told me that if I hoped to hold onto a boyfriend, I should always give him alone time with his friends, never interrupt him during the Big Game, and never, under any circumstances, criticize his kissing prowess. I wasn't too upset about letting _Cosmo _down, but the look on Jake's boyish face confirmed that I was indeed some sort of satanic spawn.

Both our bodies tensed into rigid poses, though I was unfairly the one in attacking mode while Jake's shoulders crumpled defensively. _Quick, stupid, take it back. Fix it before it's too late. _"I love kissing you!" I screamed, desperation drowning any truth he otherwise may have found in my words. "I do! I swear it!"

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked out of my room, slamming the door with unbridled fury. I raced after him, moving with the fastest pace of my life. He'd reached the front door when my feet collided with each other and propelled me face first down eleven uncarpeted, wooden steps. I'm not sure which started first, my blood-curdling scream or the series of crashing thuds, but once I reached the entryway below, all I heard was deafening silence. My surroundings spun as I braced myself, nervously twitching different body parts to discover which bone I inevitably broke this time.

Even without unsqueezing my eyelids, I knew Jake was standing over me, horrified. "Bella!" He crouched down and gently placed a hand under my neck for support. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Uuuuuuh." My series of cautious trembles told me nothing seemed to be broken. The bruises, however, would put Jake's eye to shame.

"Bells! Open your eyes, for Christ's sake! Look at me!"

I complied, and my eyes met his, making me feel like even more of a monster. "The kissing thing was total crap, okay? I am such an idiot, I—"

He winced but shook it off. "Later. Just tell me you're okay."

"I think…" I twitched my ankle. "I'm fine." Bruised and battered but not broken. At least, not physically, though I deserved to be.

"Good," he exhaled. He extended his hand and gingerly helped me to my feet.

I refused to release the fingers he'd momentarily wrapped around mine. "Listen, Jake, let me say this." He eyed the door. "I know I'm not really myself these days. I think I just said the kissing thing to piss you off…I mean, you know I would never ever even think something like that usually. I just feel so…weird. Very, very weird. And whatever it is making me cruel. I think everyone at school is driving me to the brink of insanity." It was mostly true; most of my classmates made my brain go catatonic, but one of them, the one who was the real problem, made it crash into overdrive along with my heart. "So I'm just acting like this selfish nightmare of a human being. It's—I can't explain it."

"Your nose is bleeding." Jacob was emotionless, but he went to the bathroom and grabbed me some toilet paper.

I twisted a few squares before shoving them up each nostril. The white paper tinged with red, and our roles suddenly reversed; now I was Rocky, left standing bloody and broken without my Adrienne. Jacob's hands were folded across his chest. He was gaining inches by the day, his eye level was miles above mine so that he resembled the boy I loved less and less. I felt sick.

The only path out was the one of least resistance, so I sucked in some air through my mouth and said, "I skipped school Tuesday. There was this pop quiz, I wasn't even remotely prepared, and I suddenly wanted a pumpkin, the kind Renee and I used to prop up by the front door on Halloween that always got smashed to smithereens come November. So, one of my classm—one of my friends and I skipped out. I got my pumpkin, and then the next day, I got a detention."

Jacob knew me well enough to know randomness was a trademark of mine. The pumpkin should make perfect sense to him, simply because it would make absolutely no sense for anyone to crave generic Halloween decorations. "Why didn't you just tell me that in the first place? Why all the secrets, Bells?"

_Bells._ I took this as a good sign; the more abbreviated my name, the less trouble I was in. I deserved an "Isabella" for my heinous kissing comment, but because Jake was a shoe-in for sainthood, he granted me a reprieve.

"I don't know exactly," I hedged. He trusted me, and I was blowing it. "Okay, the truth is, my friend, the one I got the pumpkin with? It's Edward Cullen. We're kind of pals now. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd get mad. Or at least uncomfortable because of all that stupid stuff with the tribal elders hating the Cullens. So I kept my mouth shut, and I shouldn't have. But he, his sister, and me—we sit together at lunch. They're very cool, Jake." For good measure, I added, "I'm sorry. I just needed friends. It sucks at school, being alone all the time. I need company."

He snorted. "Company? Is that all he is to you?"

A hysterical, overly loud laugh tore out of my mouth. "Oh, _please. _You have nothing to worry about, Jake." I stared at him with wide eyes, not understanding why he wasn't getting the obvious. "He and I, we're apples and oranges." A perfect, shiny red apple and a bruised, overly ripe orange. "No worries, I promise you."

I wasn't technically lying to him, but it sure felt like it. But, then again, I had no idea what the truth really was.

He took my hand and led me into the kitchen. He must love me because only true love could explain why he took the bloody tissues out of my nose, tossed them in the trash, and wiped my beat-up face with a wet wash cloth. He kissed my forehead and sternly addressed me. "Don't keep secrets from me, Swan. I mean it."

"You're one to talk." I lightly ran a finger across the puffiness of his black eye.

He jerked his eyes to the ceiling and pinched the bridge of his nose before staring back down at me. "This kid in my class, Paul, and I got into a bit of a scuffle, that's all."

"'A scuffle?'"

"There's some, uh, stuff going on down on the rez, and Paul was talking trash…Things just got out of control."

"Oh, great. What a thorough, specific explanation, Jake. Now I completely understand."

"It's complicated. And stupid." He leaned against the counter, pulling my wrist so I was alongside him. As vague as he was being, at least he was touching me again. "Paul's my age and we've never been exactly friends or anything, or even people that tolerate each other, but now he's up in my face all the time, telling me I need to grow up and quit goofing off with Quil and Embry."

"And that's his business because…?"

"That's the thing, it's not. I keep telling him that, but then he says I'm worthless to the tribe. I mean, I'm freaking sixteen. What is his deal?"

I was more confused than Jake was. Who was this Paul, and why was he stalking my boyfriend?

"Anyway," he sighed, "he and Sam Uley are, like, in love with each other or something. They're together all the time, and I get more of the same 'be more responsible' lectures from Sam, only he's a lot less in my face about it than Paul. Yesterday, I ran into them when Quil and I were looking for parts for this bitchin' engine we're building. Paul mouths off about me being unworthy—what of, I have no idea—and then he starts badmouthing my friends, so I decked him."

Jake lifted his fist and peeled off the bandage I'd been too angry to notice earlier. Underneath the white gauze were a series of scrapes and bruises that made his face look flawless.

Jake sheepishly muttered, "I guess his face is a bit harder than what I expected."

"Jacob Black! Holy crow, go to the hospital! What's wrong with you?" Finally, the Adrienne in me made an appearance. All I wanted to do was hold him and tell him I'd fix it all, this Paul kid's bad attitude and all the cuts and bruises, in a single second.

"I already saw the doctor down on the rez, and he says nothing's broken. I should be icing it more, though, but whatever." He shrugged. "So, Paul hits me back immediately and then…it gets kind of weird. I mean, he looked like he wasn't putting all his strength into it, so I wasn't all that worried, but then his fist hits my eye, I completely black out, and when I come to, Sam's across the parking lot, looking at Paul like he wants to rip his face off. Lover's quarrel or something, I don't know."

"Well, this will make the Halloween party tomorrow a bit more interesting." I was nervous as to Jake's reaction; going to this party together meant we were Jake and Bella again and not the screaming hotheads we'd been upstairs in my bedroom.

He nodded but didn't wrap his arm around my shoulders like he normally would have done. "You're not dressing up are you?"

Relief reached my brain but not the pit of my stomach, something was still off but at least he wasn't leaving me. "Jake, you know me better than that."

He granted me a half-hearted smile.

I touched his cheek and turned away so I could do what I should've done days ago. Tripping my way up the stairs, I returned seconds later with the pumpkin cradled in my arms. I carried it to its rightful place on the front porch, telling myself Renee would be proud I kept the tradition alive. When I walked inside, Jake and I sat down at the kitchen table, spending the remainder of our Friday night slumped over our homework, staring at equations that made no sense.

X X X

Halloween fell on a Monday, but the tribe was celebrating on Saturday. When we arrived at First Beach, the sand was speckled with various age groups, half the crowd in costumes huddled under umbrellas, the others bundled up in raincoats. I grabbed Jake's good hand and headed off to a bale of hay near the fire that struggled to burn under the light mist.

We chatted about safe topics, steering away from pumpkins and purplish welts. For over an hour, we practically enjoyed ourselves.

And then Sam Uley showed up.

A sullen boy-man I could only assume was Jake's newfound nemesis Paul flanked Sam's side. I hadn't seen Sam in nearly two months, not since the night he'd acquired and then relinquished missing-person status, but I still couldn't get over how _huge _he was. I'd heard of guys in their twenties getting growth spurts, but Sam belonged in the circus. He'd been almost six-foot-four before, but now he had to be closing in on seven feet.

Paul wasn't much smaller. I couldn't believe Jake had the nerve to punch him square in the jaw; the fact that Paul's face didn't show any evidence of their brawl told me he wasn't someone you wanted to cross.

In studying Sam's massive frame, I failed to notice Leah cowering behind him. Had it not been for her close proximity to Sam, it would've taken me awhile to realize it was her. Her once silky mane of black hair was matted and pulled into a ratty ponytail. The smile that normally played on her mouth had died, a hopeless grimace in its place. The real difference, though, was her interaction with Sam. Once joined at the hip, lovingly touching each other to the point that it made everyone else around them uncomfortable, the Sam and Leah we had once known were no more. Leah now clung to Sam's arm like a starving, lost puppy, taking strides too large for her petite legs in order to keep up with his unyielding pace. As for Sam, his eyes darted everywhere but her. He had an air of superiority to him that I'd never noticed before. Older members of the tribe nodded at him reverently, and he nodded back like a king bestowing a greeting upon his royal subjects.

"See what I mean about the weirdness?" Jake muttered to me under his breath.

I couldn't take my eyes off of the bizarre trio of Sam, Leah, and Paul as they strode across the beach. "Most definitely."

Jacob took extra measures to avoid them, but the devastation all over Leah's face made me want to comfort her. We'd never really been friends, but seeing as how no one was even glancing in her direction, I felt compelled to go to her.

Kissing Jake on the cheek, I nodded to where Leah sat alone by the fire and whispered, "Be right back."

Jake grabbed my arm. "You don't want to do that, trust me. There's a reason nobody's getting within ten feet of her."

"She's hurting, I can tell she—"

Releasing my arm, he exhaled loudly. "Fine, it's your funeral."

Tentatively, I wove around partygoers to reach her side. "Hey, Leah." I kept my voice steady and soft.

She didn't even turn her head in my direction. With malice I didn't think her weary, despondent body was capable of, she hissed, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Huh?" She hadn't even given me time to wipe the cautious smile from my face.

Finally shifting her stare, Leah appraised me like a snake about to strike. "You want to know about Sam. Well, I don't know a goddamn thing, so leave me the hell alone."

"No, Leah, it's not—"

"It's none of your business. Get out of my face."

Wordlessly, I briskly moved back to Jake.

His face was bathed in "I told you so."

"How long has _that_ being going on?" I was still in shock.

"Oh, you mean the bitch-on-wheels routine? Awhile."

I shot him a look. "Don't call her that."

"Sorry," he grumbled. "But she's not exactly a ball of fun these days. She's like that with everyone, don't take it personally."

"Because of Sam?"

"Probably. Trouble in paradise, I guess. Maybe she's jealous about Paul…"

I wished Leah and I had been friends; relationship problems seemed contagious these days, and I longed to reach out to someone who had a solid head on their shoulders, even if I couldn't tell them the whole truth.

Jake was still talking, but I was so used to the guilt that now took up permanent residence in the pit of my stomach that no new wave of remorse hit when I realized I'd been ignoring him.

"…Seth told me it's like hiring a bunch of babysitters for her, to keep her from going completely bonkers."

"Uh, what was that, Jake?"

"I was just saying that the Clearwaters have been inviting people, family and people on the rez, to spend time with Leah, like a playdate. I think Sue and Harry are pretty freaked that she's going to go off the deep end or something." Somewhere, Jake had gotten his hands on a hot dog and was gulping it down without pause, as if Leah's mental stability was light-hearted cannon fodder.

As if on cue, a girl with satiny copper skin and long, straight, crow-black hair took up watch over Leah, gently leaning over her and embracing Leah's rigid frame. The two could have been sisters; the stranger resembled how Leah had once looked, a lifetime ago when she and Sam swallowed each other whole as if they were starving. Leah didn't lift her arms to return the hug, but her face relaxed minutely, telling me that maybe the Clearwaters were onto something.

"See?" Jake nudged me. "Tonight's sitter has arrived."

I half-listened to the conversation around me, Jake oblivious to my silence as he chatted enthusiastically with Embry about the many ways in which Paul was a "walking douche bag." Mostly, I watched Leah.

I knew the reason behind my fascination with the shell of a girl across the campfire. She was me. Without Jake. She was empty, as I would be if the center of my universe no longer revolved around me. Slowly, I would become her. I could feel it, and the pain stabbing my insides might not be just a possibility…something was telling me it could very well be inevitable.

The sound of metal clinking awoke me from my despair. Yards across the beach, Sam had inadvertently walked into the grill where Quil had been flipping burgers. Charcoal, ground beef, and utensils lay scattered at his feet, and Sam's mask of quiet, confident authority had slipped. Now, as he gaped at something in front of him, he looked like he'd been hit by a truck…and that he enjoyed the paralyzing aftershock that followed the crash.

Without paying any attention to the string of profanity spilling from Quil's mouth, Sam made his way to where Leah and her friend warmed themselves by the fire. Instead of reaching out to Leah in her fresh state of bewilderment, he bent down next to the girl at her side and gingerly took her hand in his, never saying a single word. She stared back for a moment before turning to Leah and then back to Sam. Protectively grabbing Leah's limp arm, the girl gave one cold, confused look at Sam before dragging his girlfriend off into the night.

"Drama!" Embry whispered quietly in a sing-song voice.

When Jake shook with laughter, I elbowed him as hard as I could in the ribs. "What is _wrong _with you? How could you think this is funny?!"

"What?" he asked, the humor still very much alive in his eyes.

"God, you are such a teenage boy."

"Uh, yeah? And this bothers you?" He was teasing, not getting it.

"Just—nevermind." I was so angry with him, but all he was really doing was acting his age. I was such a nervous train wreck that I took every bit of my anger and anxiety out on him. Still…whatever just happened wasn't funny, not one bit; really, it was just heartbreaking. How Jake couldn't see that, how he could _laugh _about Leah's obvious pain didn't sit right with me.

Before I could block it out, my brain began to make the hideous suggestion. _Edward would never—_ My hands physically flew up to my temples, as if enough pressure would stop my selfish, unjustified insanity.

As my hands squeezed my head to the point that my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets, I figured it out, the truth about what was haunting me. I'd cast myself as Leah before, but now I saw it more clearly. I was Sam, crushing the person who loved me, pushing them away from me so I could pursue a stranger who had no inclination of ever wanting me, who didn't even know me at all.

I kept the tears in until after Jake dropped me off. I dropped my brave front when the Rabbit sped cluelessly down the street.

Marching to the porch, I picked up the pumpkin and thrust it onto the sidewalk. It broke into dozens of jagged pieces, scattered amongst the clumps of orange pulp that were beginning to seep into the concrete.

Bitterly, I acknowledged that at least that part of the tradition would live on, even if it happened by my own hand instead some unruly neighborhood teenagers.

That night, I wouldn't let myself wail and sob like I wanted to; instead, I laid still in my bed like a plank of wood. I didn't deserve the release crying would bring.

Aside from telling me I was a pathetic excuse for a human being, the pain told me something far, far worse.

I had this thing for Edward Cullen, this sick, superficial _thing_. Yet, I didn't really know him, and he certainly had no idea who I really was. He didn't know my earliest memory was of my neighbor's beagle getting hit by a car. He didn't have any idea which ice cream I preferred or which CD currently spun in my stereo. He didn't know that every single year when some snot-nosed kid would smash my pumpkin on Halloween, I'd ball up my little fists, run to my bedroom, and sob, regardless of whether I was five or eleven. He couldn't possibly see what made me hurt and what made me happy.

But Jake knew most of those things. He was the only person who truly _knew _me. So I had to make it work. I had to fix this because history told me I only had one soul mate. The past I shared with Jake told me lightening wouldn't strike twice. I was being such an idiot, craving Edward like he could somehow make me whole.

Eventually, I drifted to sleep, slightly comforted by the fact that Jake was who I really wanted, deep down.

I tried to be content telling myself all I need to know I learned in the past, where Jacob was the only person to fill the void inside me.

I never considered that the future may have something to teach me.

At least, not until the next morning, when I stumbled onto the front porch to discover the pumpkin I'd decimated the night before had been replaced with a perfect, uncrushed doppelganger.

I could have spun the lies to myself, convincing my heart that it was Charlie or Jake who went pumpkin shopping in the middle of the night.

But I knew it was him.

Just like I knew I was in love with him.


	20. Unrequited

**CHAPTER TWENTY: Unrequited**

I spent the morning of October 31st in a perpetual state of terror. An ominous fog rolled in the night before that turned Forks into the perfect setting for a Stephen King novel. A convenience store was robbed the night before, calling Charlie to the scene of the crime at two in the morning. At school, Tyler Crowley wrapped a bow around himself, tied an oversized gift tag to his neck, and told everyone his Halloween costume was "God's Gift to Women." But, as horrifying as these incidents were, nothing compared to my realization that I was hopelessly, idiotically, madly in love with a certain unattainable someone who was very much not interested in me and very much not my boyfriend.

All because of a stupid pumpkin.

I found the damn thing on the doorstep as I dashed out to my truck, exactly where I'd expected to see the pulverized remains of the pumpkin I'd bludgeoned into a mushy orange mess the night before. The replacement pumpkin was the same size and shape, and had I not already smashed pumpkin number one into the sidewalk, I would have never known the difference.

But I did, and I was certain Edward was the culprit who snuck up to my porch, cleaned up the corpse of the first pumpkin, and replaced it, all sometime between midnight and 7 AM. The question should have been why, but I already knew: He just _got _me. I'd mentioned in passing that I was used to losing Halloween pumpkins to neighborhood pranksters, a bitter memory from my somewhat broken childhood, and he'd remembered. He always listened so closely to everything I said, no matter how uninteresting or trivial.

It couldn't be love for him, of course, but he cared about me, albeit just as a friend. Sometimes I thought he might be lonely, what with his intimidating intelligence and beauty, both inside and out, so perhaps he needed me, too. Maybe I cheered him up with my endless string of mishaps; I could be unintentionally hilarious sometimes and perhaps this drew him to me, too. Plus, I didn't pursue him like all the other girls wanted to; I had a boyfriend, so he saw me as safe and was thus willing to open up and let me in, if only for a few short, perfect moments every once in awhile.

Miraculously, somewhere along the way we'd become friends, maybe even the kind that watched out for each other. The pumpkin incident showed that he protected me in a sweet, platonic way; for him, what we had could possibly be the purest of friendships.

How I desperately wished I could say the same, but I was sick of running, of denying the magnetic pull that tuned every sense in my body into him. I loved, love, and would always love Jake, but I felt something much different for Edward, something unfamiliar but that I was pretty certain was love, too. It was a love galaxies away from what Jake and I shared but it was nonetheless frighteningly powerful. Edward would never want to be mine, but a part of who I was now belonged to him.

Where this left Jake and me, I had no idea. I could never leave him, but I also couldn't go back to who I once was; something inside me had permanently changed.

I pulled my truck over halfway to school and threw up in someone's rosebushes. I could barely function, and I knew I couldn't see Edward today. One look at my face and he'd know I'd become just what he hated: a lovesick idiot incapable of being the type of girl he wanted. Still, as much as the thought disgusted me, I wanted him to want me, to see me as I saw him, beautiful and soulful, smart and kind.

Usually, I never laid eyes on him until lunch, but because today was the one day I wanted to avoid him like an incurable disease, I saw him almost as soon as my feet skidded onto the linoleum in the front entryway. My mind told me to sprint toward the nearest exit, but I could only stand still and watch the back of his head set against the backdrop of his locker. I wanted to run to him, wrap my arms around his neck, and do whatever I could to make him happy. He'd spent 2.99 and a gallon or so of gas to get me a new pumpkin and drop it off on my porch, and as much as I knew I had to resist, I was willing to repay him with the very best parts of myself, for as long as he was willing to have me, for a single hour or an entire lifetime.

He shut his locker door and turned around, his eyes pulling me in like a merciless riptide. Then, he flashed me a smile that ignited his entire face. His eyes sparkled at me and his cheeks lifted as his lips turned up into a grin, and we just stared at each other over a sea of people that thankfully kept us yards apart. Someone shoved past me in response to the five-minute warning bell that shrilled throughout the corridors, but I refused to budge.

Without telling it to, my hand waved to him and my face contorted into this foolhardy expression of hope, ecstasy, and gratitude.

He didn't wave back but instead began to make his way toward me.

Finally, just before it was too late, my stomach lurched, and my feet thrust me in the opposite direction.

What little dignity I had left kept me from ruining my fragile relationship with Jake and the precious but perilous friendship I'd forged with Edward. I was far from safe, but I would do whatever I could to maintain the status quo.

At lunch, this meant acting responsible and hiding in a bathroom stall until the hour passed. I was thirty minutes away from my goal when a pair of shiny red patent leather pumps appeared under the door.

"Bella?" The voice was gentle at first but then grew insistent. "Bella! It's Alice. I know you're in there. Are you sick?" She tapped relentlessly against the sheet of metal that separated us.

"Yeah, uh, no." I could have disappeared from my old lunch table for a month before anyone but Mike noticed, but somehow Alice, a girl who was little more than a stranger to me, set out on a search mission after thirty minutes. Apparently, Edward wasn't the only Cullen who mystified me beyond reason.

"Why aren't you eating with us?" She sounded crestfallen.

_I'm hopelessly in love with your brother, and I don't trust myself not to hop onto his lap and kiss him like a nymphomaniac on death row. _

I thought about lying to her, saying something about a stomach ache, but I'd done so much lying to myself lately that I couldn't muster up the energy. Also, though I didn't really know Alice, I really liked her and wanted her to like me. "I'm...not feeling well. I need to stay here for awhile."

It said something about my state of mind and the severity of my Edward problem that I'd rather he think I had some sort of potentially disgusting bathroom-related ailment than know that I'd fallen for him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She'd obviously gathered that my illness wasn't physical. _Damn those Cullens and their freakish perceptiveness. _

"No thanks."

"Oh…okay."

I was the one with my stomach twisted in knots and tears warping my vision, yet I felt bad for the wounded disappointment in her voice. "It's just--I had a crummy weekend. I guess I'm still recovering." There was no way I could recover from falling for Edward when I'd promised myself to Jacob, but I couldn't exactly share that with Alice.

I thought she'd tire of my "woe is me" pity party and make a fast exit, but to my extreme surprise, the rest of her body joined the red heels on the tile floor outside my stall. She produced several squares of paper towels to serve as a cushion and then settled against the wall.

"Let's talk about something else, then, to take your mind off whatever it is that's forced you to hole up in a public restroom."

"Uh, sure?"

It turned out that Alice loved questions, especially when she was the inquisitor. She asked me about my favorite movies, which articles of clothing I liked to wear, the names of my grandparents, places I'd visited on vacation. I'd start to answer, then she'd cut me off with a completely unrelated line of questioning. She reminded me a bit of a highly caffeinated version of her brother, always asking about me, never volunteering anything about herself.

The interrogation went on until she exclaimed that lunch was at an end. "That was _fun_, Bella. Don't you think?" She'd spent the past half hour parked on a bathroom floor gathering the most mundane details of my life, yet she was undeterred in her bubbly vivaciousness.

I still hadn't emerged from the stall, but I had to admit I'd calmed down considerably in the past half hour, although what Alice found "fun" about me was unclear. "Yeah, I guess I owe you. I'm not exactly the life of the party today."

I saw her lift herself from her makeshift blanket of paper towels. Leaning against the door, she asked, "So are you going to come out now or what?"

I could hear our classmates beginning to stream out of the cafeteria and into the hall. "I don't think I have a choice."

My paralyzing nerves returned tenfold when I realized I had to face him now; English was next, and I couldn't afford another detention for skipping class. Reluctantly, I shuffled out of my haven of tarnished tile and porcelain.

Alice met me with a gentle smile. "Whatever it is, Bella, you'll survive."

"Don't be so sure." I meant to grimace, but she was looking at me with such sympathy that sarcasm suddenly felt rude. She turned to walk away, but I stopped her. "Thanks, Alice, really."

She grinned and chirped, "Good luck, Bella."

She had no clue just how much I needed it.

Three ghastly minutes remained before English began, which was way too much time; I could easily betray my secret, shameful love of Edward in a single second, and I shuddered to think what damage I could do with almost two hundred of them. I remembered the cluttered bulletin board in the hallway outside Mr. Berty's classroom and planned to hover around it as long as possible.

And I would have, except Edward was pacing back and forth in front of it. As soon as I rounded the corner, he stopped mid-stride and spun to face me.

"Bell—"

"You're supposed to be at your desk," I blurted out, confused and accusing.

"Are you alright? You weren't in the cafeteria and—" His expression faltered as he noticed something on my face. It couldn't have been food, as I hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, but I grew self-conscious anyway. Stepping closer, he slowly raised a hand, leaving it hovering near my forehead but then thought better of making contact and dropped it to his side. With simultaneous worry and intense anger, he asked, "Why are there bruises all over your face? What happened to you?"

With my cataclysmic realization that I was in love with the wrong person, I'd forgotten about Friday's thunderous tumble down the stairs. The bruises were barely visible, and until now, no one, not even Charlie, had noticed the pale purple hue speckled across my forehead. Sounding like a talentless actress in a _Lifetime _TV movie, I responded, "I fell down the stairs."

"And what? Landed on your face?" He had a roughness to him that reminded me of Charlie at his most furious, outwardly calm but on the brink of snapping just beneath the surface. He leaned in closer, my face just inches from his neck, causing my breath to sputter in small gasps. Thank God he was focused on my forehead rather than my eyes, as I couldn't take eye contact on top of inhaling the intoxicating aroma of his skin.

"Actually, yeah. Kind of." I gave him this awkward half smile and instantly regretted it.

His jaw locked as the pale skin across his forehead amassed into a series of wrinkles. "So let me get this straight: You have a history of seriously traumatic head injuries, you fall down a series of steps, and have your fall broken by your _face._" Edward's rage faltered as he pleaded, "Please tell me you went to the hospital."

I rolled my eyes, hoping the reaction would help him see how absurd he was acting instead of sending him over the edge. "The hospital? Pshh. Rookie mistake. I used an ice pack." I gestured to my head. "See? Still conscious three days later."

His eyes widened so far that I thought his eyebrows would disappear into his hairline. "Do you—" He lowered his voice as Angela passed us on her way into the classroom. "Do you have any concept of self-preservation? Are you aware of the consequences of repeated head traumas, especially for someone with your medical history, someone who spent weeks in a coma? About how scar tissue can build and—"

"No, Edward, I'm not that hip to the ins and outs of repeated head injuries; my after-school MD program is only in its first semester." He was being ridiculous; any uneasiness stemmed from my heart, not my head.

Mr. Berty appeared at the doorway between us. "Planning to join us today, children?"

In my confrontation with Edward, I hadn't even picked up on the fact class had begun.

Ignoring Mr. Berty's best attempt at a menacing glare, Edward bore his gaze upon me and nodded toward the parking lot. "Let's go, Bella."

I could hear my pulse hammering double time in my ears. "Go? Go where?"

Berty was saying something, but I refused to allow him to tear my attention away from Edward's insistent face.

"The hospital. You need a MRI. The more time that passes, the more irreversible the damage becomes."

Riding in the car on a pointless trip to the ER meant alone time with Edward. It was the worst possible course of action, but it still sounded like the best idea I'd ever heard.

Fortunately, fate by way of an irate Mr. Berty stepped in. "You kids better get your butts in your seats or it's another afternoon in detention for the both of you."

Edward stared him down, his face dripping with condescension. "She hit her head, she needs—"

"Nice try, Mr. Cullen. Miss Swan looks just fine to me, so this little play you're putting on is rather ineffective." He turned to me with a sneer. "If you're planning on fainting, Bella, you can save it for someone who hasn't been teaching for twenty-five years."

During Mr. Berty's self-important little speech, Edward took to ducking down and staring into my eyes, probably looking for signs of concussion-induced dementia. Regardless of his motives, I was overwhelmed by his sudden willingness to get so close to me. If any fainting went on, it certainly wouldn't be an act.

As I stared into the tawny, concerned eyes in front of me, I fought the urge to lean in and bring our faces together, an urge that told me I couldn't let myself go anywhere with him. Summoning strength I never knew I had, I said, "Sorry, Mr. Berty. I'm coming to class."

I refused to look at Edward as I marched across the classroom and took my seat, but I heard him follow closely behind. I stared purposefully at the chalkboard and sat up straight as a pin in my seat in a meager attempt to come across as the model student.

Less than a minute into my act, a square of folded paper hit my forearm and landed directly in front of me. In perfect, elegant script, it read, _"You need to see a doctor as soon as possible. Please stop being stubborn."_

"_I'm fine_,"I furiously scribbled back,"_Please stop being insane._"I creased the paper back into a little square and flicked my finger against it, sending it shooting past Edward, ricocheting off of the back of Ben Cheney's head, and eventually bouncing onto Angela's copy of _Jane Eyre_. She looked up, startled.

"SORRY," I mouthed when we made eye contact. She just grinned and tossed it back at me. I flung it at Edward, feeling angrier than before due to my own lack of coordination.

He had the nerve to look amused, but that didn't dissuade him from continuing his written lecture. Effortlessly, he shot the paper square into the exact center of my desk. "_I will drag you to a hospital myself after school if you don't take my advice. Be safe, Bella. Don't be stupid_."

I made a show of theatrically narrowing my eyes at him as I waited for Mr. Berty to turn his back. Once our teacher's attention diverted to the textbook, I leaned across the aisle and tossed the paper so it hit Edward square in the jaw before falling to his lap. He pursed his lips as he read my response. "_I can't just run up hospital bills because you're a hypochondriac. My dad will completely flip out if he finds out I went to the doctor again._""

Out of nowhere, a smug grin came over him as he wrote._ "It will be our secret. Trust me._"

I'd had more than my share of hospital visits and I was already at my limit where Edward-related secrets were concerned, but I just shrugged at him. If I just bolted as soon as class ended, maybe he'd leave me alone.

I anxiously awaited the bell as I prepared to launch myself past my classmates and into the hallway before Edward could so much as blink his heavily-lashed eyelids. When the hands on the clock above Mr. Berty's head hit two o'clock, I shot out of my seat with impressive speed. Still, Edward was faster. He was standing in front of me, blocking my path before I could take two steps. I moved to his left, but he followed suit so I couldn't pass. When I shifted to the right, he was there again.

"This is pathetic. Let me by," I huffed at his chest, which loomed less than a foot away from my face.

"We're talking about your health, Bella. Stop acting like a child."

"Fine. When I get home tonight, I'll make an appointment with Dr. Gerandy," I lied. "Happy?"

"I would be if you weren't lying through your teeth," he smirked. "We can go after school; my father's working today and he can check you out on the sly, no payment required."

"I can't let him do that."

"He won't mind."

"Yes, but _I _mind. I don't like people doing me favors that I have no way of repaying." I nervously shifted my weight and studied the tile beneath my sneakers. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be late to class."

He moved aside, but before I could disappear from earshot, he called, "I'll see you after school."

As much as I'd been dying for him to say those exact words to me, I couldn't allow myself any more time with him in his car, the smell of him drowning out my sanity. Besides, I loathed visits to the hospital, which without fail left me with a feeling of claustrophobic helplessness.

In a volume he couldn't decipher, I muttered, "Don't bet on it," I'd do my damnedest to be out in the parking lot and behind the wheel of my truck before the bell stopped ringing.

X X X

As soon as three o'clock hit, I reincarnated myself as the Flash, bolting through the hallway at unyielding speed, dodging dawdling underclassmen, and breaking apart two sophomores sucking face in my haste to reach the parking lot. I was the first of my classmates out the door…or so I thought.

I approached my parking space and there he was, grinning like the Cheshire cat, his long body leaning casually against my truck. "Going somewhere?" he asked with mock innocence.

"Home. Now move."

"Nice try, but you need to see a doctor." He dropped the arrogance and pleaded, "Please, Bella."

"Look, thanks for looking out for me or whatever, but I am totally fine. I have stuff to do, so move."

He didn't even stir, instead sizing me up with his eyes. Taking a deep breath and setting his jaw, he said, "This is for your own good."

Before I knew it, he'd approached where I stood, bent down, and slung me over his shoulder like I was Scarlett freaking O'Hara.

"You have got to be _kidding_ _me_, Edward. Put me down. _Now_." I was doing everything I could to keep my voice even, but my preoccupation with being concurrently pissed off and elated by the contact our bodies made my goal impossible. Hours earlier I'd vowed to avoid him at all costs, and now his arms gripped around my legs and my face was brushing against the middle of his back. Usually, I was excellent at keeping promises, but today I'd become a blasphemous failure.

We reached his car, and he opened the passenger door one-handed. Setting me down in the seat, he did everything but shake his finger at me. "Sit still."

"I hate you," I barked at him, though despite his chauvinistic, control-freak behavior, the opposite couldn't be more true.

"You'll get over it." He was practically whistling as he slid into the driver's seat, downright cheerful over getting his way.

We drove to the hospital in silence. He fiddled with the radio while I sat next to him with my arms crossed and a pout clouding my face.

Though I'd do a belly flop onto a pitchfork before letting Edward see it, I was a mess. He was taking care of me, and I absolutely hated it. Granted, he was obviously prone to overreaction, but he was _worried _about me. The thought warmed my insides, and then I felt like garbage because Jake also did his best to watch out for me and I never gave him enough credit. In fact, I gave him so little credit that I was tossing his trust in me aside for somebody who would never love me back, who would never devote himself to me the way Jake was willing to.

Edward pulled into a parking space and stared at me expectantly. "Look, I know—"

"Let's get this over with." I flung open the Volvo's door and slammed it shut behind me.

Edward led me through the main entrance, wisely ignoring the jesters in the ER who'd pepper me with an endless sampling of their "Bella Equals Hilarious Walking Disaster" routine. Dr. Cullen's office was on the second floor, tucked away in a deserted corner. Edward barely tapped on the glass door before his father ushered us inside as if he'd been expecting us for hours.

After Edward explained the situation, Dr. Cullen turned to me and asked for my version of events. I reluctantly recounted my weekend fall, admitting how I'd been dizzy for a little while after my head had struck the banister and then bounced me to the ground.

Dr. Cullen gave the response I dreaded, that a MRI was the best route at this point because of latent symptoms I might not notice on my own. "But don't worry, Bella, we can do this quickly; nobody even has to know you're here." I knew he meant Charlie, not the hospital staff, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted was to worry him with yet another health scare; waking up from my coma to his devastated face in the hospital last January was still something I would never forget.

Somehow, Dr. Cullen managed to sneak me into the room with the stretcher and large, tubular machine undetected, operating the scanner by himself while Edward wrung his hands and stared at the ceiling with an unreadable expression.

When it was over, Dr. Cullen spoke to me about what he saw, but I tuned him out. "So what you're saying it that I'm fine?" I shot a pointed glare at Edward.

"Well, for now, yes, but another contusion could really—"

"I'll be more careful," I vowed, knowing caution wouldn't make a difference; my bad luck and lack of coordination doomed me to a lifetime of concussions, broken bones, and hideous bruises.

I thanked him profusely for his kindness, though I wanted to throttle Edward. How dare he force me to listen to dangers I couldn't avoid? If I fell, I fell. It wasn't like I was seeking out brain damage for a laugh or thrill-seeking out of boredom. Had I known of a way to stop the falls, I would take it. Unfortunately, I could never be Supergirl, invincible to even the deadliest of head injuries.

Edward drove me back to the parking lot to retrieve my truck, painfully reminding me of the last time when he'd dropped me off in the same spot, pumpkin in hand, a smile on my face. This time, I was too depressed to even lift my eyes to his to say good bye.

As I moved to lift the door handle, I defiantly said, "You know, I'm not going to thank you or apologize or anything."

"I'm not expecting you to," he responded softly.

"Good."

"Good," he echoed.

It was time for me to get out, but I couldn't bear to leave him. I wanted to be angry with him, but I also wanted him to understand where I was coming from. "It's not my fault. I can't help it. These things just _happen_—"

He silenced me, murmuring a repeated series of "shhs" but saying nothing.

Tired of not allowing myself to see him, I raised my head and took him in. I wanted to tell him a thousand things, a "thank you," an "I'm sorry," an "I love you," but all I could say was "good night."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bella." His eyes were so sad. I wondered if he was unconsciously mirroring the emptiness that tore at my own expression. I was a terrible friend to him if I made him feel bad over doing the right thing, overriding my unwavering stubbornness to get me the help I needed.

I pushed myself out of his car before I could act on instinct and ruin everything. I fumbled for my keys, aware that he hadn't sped off yet. He waited out of kindness, to make sure my unreliable Chevy started, and I just couldn't let him go.

Running over to the driver's side window, I raised my finger to tap on the glass, but he was steps ahead of me, hitting the button so it lowered between us.

In a rush, I told him, "You were right, I was wrong. I should have gone in after it happened, but I don't like remembering that I might just be on borrowed time with this thing," I flung a hand to indicate my head, "And if you ever tell a single soul that I told you that, I will kill you."

He nodded. "I won't." It would have been better for us both if he'd stop looking at me like a drowning man eying a life preserver, but I was certain he was clueless as to what his expression was doing to me. "Just be careful. You're just too…reckless."

If only he knew how right he was. I thought of Jacob and what he meant to me, his loyalty and devotion, how he made me feel loved and safe. Then, I thought of Edward and how he turned my world upside down and made me love him despite being the very type of person I should avoid at all costs. Had Edward torn open his door, run to my side, slung me over his shoulder in the same way he'd done earlier, and told me to give up everything and belong to him, without question, I would have. I _was _reckless, and Edward was right: I had to be careful. I had to let him go, but I couldn't. I had to walk away somehow, for Jacob's sake and maybe even my own…but I knew that was easier said than done.

**Chapter End Notes: **The nymphomaniac/kissing line is from a favorite guilty pleasure movie of mine, Notting Hill.


	21. Sparks

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Sparks**

My mother had always been a creature of whimsy. She bought those miniature horoscope guides in the supermarket checkout line, signed up for swing dancing after hearing a Brian Setzer song on the radio, and chopped off her hair using kitchen scissors and no mirror the summer our AC conked out. Her utmost act of impulse, though, was packing up and dragging me out of Forks, away from my father and her only source of income, when I was still in diapers because she had grown tired of endless rain and playing housewife to the local rookie cop. She had loved him once, she'd told me, but marrying that young had sucked the life out of her and she knew she'd never forgive herself if she didn't make her escape.

Despite her irresponsible attitude and lack of foresight, I loved Renee with my whole heart. We'd weathered so many storms together that I had no hesitation in trusting her completely. When she married Phil my freshman year of high school, I told the part of my brain that nagged he was too young for her to stuff it because I saw how happy she was. I'd envied her because she threw caution to the wind and gave herself to someone, even after failing so miserably with my own father over a decade earlier and a phonebook's worth of perpetual losers in the interim. Like a cat, Renee landed on her feet. She'd made mistakes but in the end, she finally found happiness.

I, on the other hand, couldn't buy socks without calculating the pros and cons of white cotton versus gray synthetics. Every decision I ever made was a painstaking process of looking at each possible choice from a hundred different angles. Yet, I was the one who now never slept at night or ate more than a few bites at a time; despite my prudence and unwavering cautiousness, it was me and not my mother who was a hormonal basket case.

I spent the better part of three weeks avoiding the two sources of my pain by avoiding the cafeteria and keeping the phone off of the hook. It made perfect sense that when I'd finally reached my breaking point, she'd be there for me. After years of watching over my mom, I was finally the child.

I had been going through the motions for weeks, telling Jake I was stressed out with school and college applications so I wouldn't spend more than an hour or two with him at a time. He seemed to buy it, and my guilt worsened with each passing day. Over and over, I chastised myself that I should love Jacob more, that if I just tried harder everything would work out as it should…but it kept getting worse.

I'd told Edward the same lies I'd fed Jake, going as far as spending several lunch hours studying in the school library. The few times I pretended to eat in the cafeteria seated across from him, I'd buried my head in college admissions essays and scholarship applications, not even allowing Alice to break my contrived concentration. Edward had tried to corner me to ask what was wrong, but I'd just plastered an unconvincing smile on my face and told him I was just getting a case of senioritis, worried about my GPA and life after graduation.

Eventually, my sleepless nights caught up with my body and I suffered with a week-long flu. The emotional pain had torn me apart for so much longer that I nearly welcomed the physical agony as a change of pace.

At 1AM on November 19th, a stormy Saturday morning, the dam holding in the remaining drops of my sanity finally broke. After Jacob dropped off a care package filled with bottles of Ny-Quil and Kleenex and made a hasty exit, I'd starting crying alone in my room and couldn't stop. For seven hours.

On top of my stuffed up nose, aching stomach, and slight fever, the crying was too much. I was so dehydrated that the tears could no longer come and dry heaving took their place. I buried my face in my pillow to muffle the sound of my own gagging, practically suffocating if it meant hiding my pain from Charlie. The thought that finally hit me was the first inkling of relief I'd felt in days: I needed my mother.

It was 4AM in Florida, but this was an emergency. I didn't want to worry her, but I couldn't handle this on my own anymore. Creeping down to the kitchen, I grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle, crawled into the tiny coat closet in the hall, and closed the door. She answered after four rings.

"Mom?"

"Honey?" She was breathless and groggy, but panic still altered the speed of her words. "What's wro—"

"I'm in love with this boy. He's not Jake, and he doesn't want me. But he's all I can think about." I spoke so quickly, I wasn't sure anything I said had even been coherent, but Renee was fluent in crazy, so she didn't need me to slow down. "I'm sorry about the time, but I can't sleep and I—I need you to tell me it will go away, that I can get my life back." Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I pleaded, "Pl—please, Mom."

Though it travelled three thousand miles to reach me, her sympathetic sigh warmed the nervous shivers out of my body for the first time in days. "Oh, sweetheart. I worried this would never happen for you." Her voice lifted, and I could have sworn she was almost _laughing _on her end of the line.

Shocked, I asked, "Do you find this _funny_? This is _ruining _my life." I bit my fist to keep the tearless sobbing from starting up again.

"Isabella…you sound like a teenager." She sounded thrilled and maybe a bit awed. "Like you're in love, the fairytale love you always used to tell me was total crap."

I wished she'd been sitting in front of me so she could see the rage color my cheeks. "Mom! How can you—"

"Relax, honey, I'm not mocking you, it's just…Has this boy, the one who has you calling me in tears in the middle of the night, has he told you he's not interested in you?"

Of course, she hadn't seen Edward, so the answer wasn't screaming back at her. "Trust me, he's not. At all. We're strictly in the friend zone."

"But there are sparks, aren't there?"

"Ugh. See? That right there? That's the fairytale garbage I cannot stand." This had been Renee's problem for years, believing every man who walked into her life was a potential Prince Charming. "And, for there to be these so-called 'sparks,' I think it has to be mutual. You can't have sparks with yourself, Mother."

"So you haven't told him how you feel, have you?"

I started laughing hysterically, the kind of laugh only weeks of living in emotional hell coupled with two consecutive sleepless nights and four tablespoons of night-time cold medicine can bring. "No way," I gasped between guffaws, "he would crucify me."

Renee said nothing and let my laughter die out. Once it did, I continued soberly, "He'd stop talking to me…and I don't want—I can't lose him."

"So you're sure he's not on the same page as you, then?"

"He's not even reading the same book, Mom."

I heard shuffling on the other end and knew she was pacing back and forth, a maneuver she often did when deep in thought. "And Jacob? Where does he stand in all of this?"

_Ah, the million dollar question. _"He has no idea, but he knows something's wrong." I gnawed on my bottom lip, knowing it would be painfully chapped within the hour. "I can't hurt him, either. He's—he's all I have, and he loves me so much. And trusts me. And promises me anything I ask. I just can't…"

She was silent for awhile, but I had no doubt Renee was still awake. All her relationship mistakes made her a bit of a boyfriend guru, but I'd never needed her expertise before. Finally, she spoke with sage-like intensity. "Do you love Jacob?"

"Yes, _of course_. I told you, he's my everything." I couldn't believe she needed me to explain this part. I thought the entire world knew Jake and I were two halves of a whole.

"Hmm" was all she said for several minutes. Then, she started speaking in a way that told me she'd wanted to say the same words to me for quite awhile. "Bella, I loved your dad. Very much. I trusted him and knew there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for me. He was safe and warm and sometimes he'd bring me flowers for no reason on a Wednesday." I heard her smile. "I liked that a lot. But when he was off at work, I was lonely. The thing was, I didn't necessarily miss him…I missed the way he made me feel, how he kept me from feeling empty. I didn't miss our conversations or the jokes he'd tell. I mean, he never liked any of the things I liked, and I always felt like there were parts of me he'd never understand or even know at all. He loved me, but I don't think we were always _in _love with each other. Maybe at first, but I kept thinking that maybe there was something more, something that I was missing…_sparks_, Bella."

"Well, Jake's jokes are hilarious, and he knows all there is to know about me," I blurted out unthinkingly. Renee was opening her heart to me, but I was on the defensive and couldn't let her words truly reach me.

"Okay," she murmured for lack of a better response. After a beat, she asked, "Do you remember the first time you called me to tell me Jake kissed you?"

"_You_ called _me_. You kept asking questions because you thought I was hiding something, and I finally had to fess up."

"Exactly."

I was too dazed for her clever tricks. "Huh?"

"You didn't call me. I had to drag it out of you, and when you confessed, it was like you were admitting you'd broken one of my pottery pieces."

"I was embarrassed." Renee and I had a pretty open relationship, but talking about my first kiss and having a boyfriend made me uneasy. Surely, she had to understand that was the reason for my lack of enthusiasm.

"Maybe. But you just called me at four in the morning over this boy, this non-Jacob boy who you're telling me you're in love with."

I groaned a bit too loudly. I waited to hear any sounds from Charlie's room above, but I was only met with silence. "That's because he's driving me _insane_. I can't get him out of my head. Were you like this after you left Dad? When does it go away?"

"Oh, Bella." Renee used the same tone when she hugged me after I'd skinned a knee or failed a math test, and I remembered all over again just how much I missed her. "I regret hurting him, but I don't regret leaving. I know what you're talking about, the longing and obsessing…but I feel that when I'm away from Phil. Because I love him, the kind of love I just didn't have with Charlie."

"Mom, I can't. I belong with Jake. He'd be crushed—"

"There's no law betrothing you to your high school boyfriend, sweetie." Her words, as gentle as they were, stung. "You have options, even though they aren't necessarily easy choices."

She was only hearing the parts she wanted to. "No, I don't! Jacob trusts me and Edward doesn't want—"

"Do you remember that little ice cream shop you loved when we were in Phoenix, the one all the way in Scottsdale? With the banana milkshakes you were so crazy about?"

"What?" I briefly wondered if I'd passed out at some point and she'd just kept talking for hours without realizing my absence, taking the conversation in a completely new direction.

"You refused to let me take you to Steak 'n Shake. Instead, we had to drive forty-five minutes to get you one of those milkshakes because you insisted they were so much better."

Stupidly, I fell right into her trap. "Well, yeah. Steak 'n Shake used banana _flavoring_, so those milkshakes taste like candy and are bright yellow, like lemons instead of bananas; that's just wrong…and gross. Plus, the Sugar Bowl used real whipped cream and those frosted mugs…"

"The drive was worth it, right?"

Renee couldn't see it, but she knew me well enough to know I was rolling my eyes. "Jake isn't banana flavoring, Mom. He's the real thing. And the other ice cream parlor in this little scenario isn't even open, so, you know, no need to waste gas." My concentrating on continuing the metaphor wasn't helping the nausea brought on by my need for liquids and rest.

"Just think about it. Please. Don't shy away from what you want just because you have to work a little for it."

A more alert version of myself would have let her have it, but I was no match for the double dose of Sudafed I'd forced down an hour earlier. "I think I can sleep now."

"You sound terrible. Do you have a cold?" She sounded so much like a mother; I wasn't really used to our roles being reversed for an entire conversation.

"Uh huh."

"Get some sleep. I love you, baby."

"Sorry I woke you up."

Renee chuckled. "Oh, believe me, I would not have wanted to miss this."

I had a feeling she'd call me the next day to probe me for further details, but for now, I was happy to finally tell the truth to someone; lying was exhausting. "Night, Mom. Love you."

"Good night, Bella. Be strong."

I was the opposite of strong as I tossed the phone onto the kitchen table and crawled up the stairs and into bed. The medicine lulled me into a dreamless sleep, and I didn't wake up for fourteen hours.

X X X

I'd already missed two days of school the week before on account of my battle with the flu, so I decided to stop hiding and headed to class on Monday despite my runny nose and peakish complexion.

Aside from my illness, I was also sick over being stuck in a hellish limbo as to what to do about Jake, whether to tell him my love was divided between him and someone else or to spare his feelings and stand by him the best I could. As for Edward, I figured he never left my thoughts regardless of whether I was in his physical presence or alone in my bedroom, so there was no real harm in allowing him back into my life during school hours. I missed him like crazy, and he'd never allow my fantasies become reality, so I was only in danger from thinking my own selfish thoughts.

Absorbed in sorting through my feelings, I was absentmindedly stocking my locker with Kleenex and daytime cough syrup before class when I felt a hand gingerly cup around my right shoulder.

I knew it was Edward without turning around, though him voluntarily touching me was certainly new. For a second, I closed my eyes and took in his feathery grasp. His hand was cold, and I wanted it to clutch my feverish body and drive out the clammy feeling that had plagued me for days.

When I eventually turned to face him, his body's proximity to mine overwhelmed me. He hovered over me, at the same time looking both lost and found. I smiled weakly when I realized that meant he'd missed me.

"Hey," I murmured.

"I had no idea you were so sick," he responded, letting his hand slide a little down my arm before resting it at his side. He kept his eyes on his own movements as if conducting some sort of secret science experiment. Then he raised his stare to me, and I imagined that he swallowed nervously.

I wouldn't let the spell he cast over me ruin the opportunity for sarcastic teasing. "You're not going to throw me over your shoulder again and drag me off to the hospital, are you?"

He rolled those beautiful golden eyes of his. "That depends. How's your head?"

"Stuffed up and concussion-free, but I'll keep you posted."

"Then I suppose I don't need to kidnap you just yet." He grinned at me, but he still looked a little worried. "So, despite your illness, does this mean you're talking to me again?"

"I never stopped," I hedged. "But I am officially taking a break from pretending to be a Type A personality. I never want to see another 'Why Dartmouth?' essay ever again." _Crap. _

His eyes widened with excitement. "Dartmouth? _Dartmouth! _So you're applying after all?"

"Shh," I hissed, darting my eyes around the hallway. I didn't want word getting out that I had an Ivy League pipe dream. "Yeah, I thought I'd give it a shot. I can always frame the rejection letter and hang it over my desk; I bet Dartmouth has nice stationary."

He ignored my pessimism and smiled wide, his impossibly white teeth gleaming. "That's so—" he broke off into another grin "—so wonderful."

Embarrassed, I concentrated on wringing my hands. "It's stupid, really. There's no way—"

"Oh, quiet. Have some faith, you're a smart girl."

_Not lately_, I wanted to add.

I also wanted him to stop smiling at me, as it was the most tempting thing I'd ever seen. With my focus now on his mouth, I leaned in slightly to see if I could smell his breath, but I couldn't pick up a thing, as if he wasn't even breathing at all. Frustrated, I sighed up at him.

"I can help you with your essay at lunch, if you want. I'm fairly decent at that sort of thing." He was "fairly decent" at everything, but I didn't want to give his ego any more of a boost than the unapologetic glow on my face may have already given him.

"I don't want to bore you to death, Edward. Don't worry about it."

The hallway was practically deserted, telling me I needed to get to class. Edward walked backward in the opposite direction, still dazzling me with his jubilant expression. "Bring it to lunch," he suggested confidently, "and Dartmouth will be begging you to head their way next fall."

Four hours later, I complied, mostly because it would give us something safe to talk about.

Edward poured over my three-page paper with a fine-toothed comb, adding commas and omitting entire paragraphs before turning to me with a confused look. "This essay isn't you, Bella. It's cold and empty and not once does it show who you truly are."

I loved to write, but bragging about my own accomplishments, or filling holes where I had nothing to brag about, was not my specialty. "And who am I, Edward? I can't just make up lies about spending a summer volunteering in Haiti or building a homeless shelter with my bare hands. I'm just not what they're looking for." I snatched the papers back from him and muttered, "I don't have anything to offer them."

He reached toward me and jerked the papers back into his side of the table. I'd never seen him look so angry. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true. I'm not a blip on anyone's radar, let alone one of the best colleges in the country. My life…sucks, okay? I'm only a slightly above-average student, I can't articulate a single rational thought out loud, I live in Forks, for Christ's sake, and I certainly can't convince some blowhards in the ivory tower that I belong with them. And I don't even know if I want to. Let's just burn this stupid thing," I reached across and flicked my finger against the sheets in his hand, "and pretend you never gave me this terrible idea in the first place."

I coughed, blew my nose forcefully on a napkin, and met his eyes without hesitation, not bothering to feel embarrassed that I looked like I was on the losing end of a bet with the Grim Reaper.

Edward stared back, but his hostile expression softened into something…new. His eyes pleaded with me, but I had no idea what he was asking for.

Somewhere between his critique of my grammar and the sudden heavy silence that had just fallen over us, Alice disappeared without so much as a goodbye. Edward leaned across the table, apparently undeterred by my unabating flu. Finally, I could smell his breath, a scent so sweet and inviting that it caused pain to swell in my chest because I couldn't take it in whenever I wanted.

"Bella, you're…you're just…" I'd never seen him at a loss for words before. "You're incredibly special, you're selfless to the point of making yourself miserable for the sake of those you care about, and you are by far the most genuine person I've ever met. You're heads and shoulders above anyone else in this school, in this town when it comes to intelligence. And, on top of all of that you have no idea how _special _you are. I am so sick of you not believing that you deserve better, to get out of here and live the life you were meant to live. You don't belong in this place; you are meant for greater things. Dartmouth would be crazy not to want you. _Anyone _would be crazy not to want you."

_Wait—what? _

He seriously misread my awestruck expression and the uncontrollable tremors of my hands. Kindly smiling at me, his eyes vacant, he continued, "Look, you don't have to be afraid; he loves you, trust me. He'll follow you anywhere, but you have to get out of this place before it swallows you whole."

"That's not—I know he would." I scrunched up my eyelids to force the tears back in, but I was fighting a losing battle. I could not believe I was talking about Jacob with Edward. Candidly, no less. It was a reprehensible mistake, but I saw something shift in Edward that I may have imagined, but yet I had to know if whatever it was was real. "It's not that. I think that I, uh, may want…something that I can't have, and I don't really know what I _should_ want, what's best for me. I mean, I know the answer, I know what the smart choice is, but there's this other thing that keeps nagging at me, and I want to not want it, but I do. I just do, and I can stop it."

He studied me, unblinking. "I'm not sure I follow."

I sighed, my exhaling broken by the silent, hidden sobs constricting my chest. "I'm not sure I do, either. Never mind."

"Don't do that. Don't brush me off." He kept leaning closer and had I not been delusional, I could have sworn he was internally warring with himself over whether or not to touch me. At least, I wanted more than anything for that to be the truth. I stopped myself from memorizing in his scent as he said, "You haven't been yourself in weeks, Bella. I know you don't really know that much about me, but if something is bothering you, you can tell me what it is. Maybe I can help—"

"You can't."

"Perhaps I—"

I stopped thinking and just interrupted him by asking a small portion of what I'd been dying to know. "Why is it that you've never had a girlfriend, Edward? The real reason, this time, not the 'I dislike most people' garbage you feed everyone." _That you fed me._

The motivation behind my question was so transparent, yet he seemed taken aback. He raked his fingers back and forth across his scalp and through his hair before answering. "I'm not the sort of person that settles, I suppose. I'm not going to force something upon myself when it's not absolutely right."

"And when the hell is that supposed to happen? How do you know when it is right?" I didn't really know what I was searching for, a glimmer of hope that he might feel something for me or the key to knowing who I belonged with, as if I even had a choice at all.

With his index finger, he traced the lines on his palm. He breathed in, deep and slow, and let the emotion drain from his face. "When it happens…you just know. I can't really explain it."

Jealousy raised the transparent hairs on my arm and set my heart thumping in varying, irregular rhythms. "So you've felt it before?"

Finally, he looked up at me. His eyes were cold and demanded silence. "Just once."

"Me, too." It was meant to be a lie, but my heart thudded to my chest as I realized it was the truth. I had only felt it once, that kind of love my mother left my father to find. And it wasn't with Jake, the person to whom I belonged, the person with whom I made sense.

For a second, Edward looked damned, self-condemning and filled with an aching I couldn't fathom. His body language told me my questions were no longer welcome, and I hated the girl who let him go.

"Bella, listen to me." I jumped at the sound of his voice, so insistent and earnest but with undertones that told me I wouldn't like what he was about to say. "You have to leave this place. He's not going to stop loving you, trust me."

"You can't know—"

"Trust me." He leaned away from me and fidgeted with the corner of his lunch tray. "He'll follow you, and you can be happy. I promise."

He thought this was about Jake, that I'd been incessantly moping and avoiding everyone I knew because I thought Jake would leave _me. _I almost laughed at the insanity of his misguided intuition. I wondered what he would say if I told him Jacob wasn't the source of the problem at all, that it was Edward who consumed my every waking minute.

He stood then, reaching to reposition the essay in front of me. "Redraft this, and we'll talk again tomorrow."

"Easier said than done," I said automatically, failing to take in my own words.

He leaned against our table and lowered his voice so it soothed my erratic pulse. "Write about your mother. When you talk about her, you come alive. She'll help Dartmouth see who you really are." His mouth twitched into a slight, shy smile.

I felt it then.

The spark.

Edward _knew _me, each and every part; no matter what I did, I could never hide from him. I couldn't know if he felt it too, but he'd said _anyone _would want me, I hadn't imagined it, and he'd said it with such purity that even I couldn't argue that he'd been lying.

Was it possible that someone who saw me for everything I was would love me back? _Not if that person is Edward_, I warned myself, repeating my canned response meant to snap me back into the real world. But this time, my internal lecturing didn't ring entirely true.

I couldn't forget the look on his face, the way his lips curled around the words…

_Anyone would be crazy not to want you, Bella. _

For a few seconds, before I could weigh the pros and cons and analyze my newfound happiness into dust, I dared to hope Edward was right.

**Chapter End Notes: **So much angst, I know. By now, you should know that's what you signed up for when you kept reading this story.

(1) The ice cream shop in Scottsdale is real, but I Googled it and have never actually been there, so it could suck just as much as banana milkshakes from Steak 'n Shake, which are really made with artificial flavoring (at least here in IL) and make me want to gag.

(2) Dartmouth's admissions policies don't exactly have a "Why Dartmouth" essay, but they do in this story because I'm too lazy to sign up for a user ID on the Dartmouth site to check out their actual admission essays.

(3) The reviews, as always, are overwhelming. Most of them are so detailed and thoughtful; getting any reviews is exciting, but getting them from such intelligent readers has put me over the moon. I love you all and I hope this chapter didn't disappoint.


	22. Crushed

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Crushed**

For the past month, I'd perfected the act of "accidentally" bumping into Edward, actually faking additional stumbling on top of my natural, relentless clumsiness. I did it so frequently that I came across like a drunken sorority girl with vertigo, but his touch was my addiction. Worse yet was how his disinterest in physical contact did little to dissuade me. The fact he wasn't interested in me only made my obsession seem less wrong, less like a betrayal.

Soon I realized it wasn't just the feel of him that I was addicted to; it was Edward himself. So I stopped. No more pratfalls, no more needless closeness on our short walks from lunch to English. I couldn't indulge myself anymore because it wasn't just lust…it was love.

And then it started.

Within the span of a single week, on his own and without any intentional or accidental intervention by me, Edward casually touched my arm four times and my shoulder once. Each time a part of his body met one of mine, I had to grind my teeth together with my tongue sandwiched in between to keep from looking at him like he was my own personal savior… above everything, I could not possibly let him know just how crucial he'd become for my own happiness.

As impossible as it was, sometimes I was convinced he was crazy about me. I kept a running tally in my head whenever I momentarily lost my grasp on reason and allowed myself to think that somehow _he _wanted _me_.

Aside from the blasé physical contact, there was the way he smiled at my jokes, even the bad ones, and saw past the act I put on for the rest of my classmates. He grew almost angry at me whenever I put myself down. He teased me about my truck in this playful, irresistible voice that made me forget that I didn't like anyone dissing my Chevy. He'd figured out my favorite candy was gummy bears, and I always found a bag sitting at my usual spot at our lunch table whenever I was having a bad day. Friends did stuff like that…but something about the way he looked at me while doing those things made me feel as if it was something more.

The greatest indication of something beyond friendship was his reaction when I returned to school with a new draft of my Dartmouth admissions essay days before Thanksgiving break. On his advice, I focused my essay on my complicated but precious relationship with Renee. After his critique in the cafeteria, I went home and poured my heart out. It was easier than I'd thought it would be, probably because my relationship with my mother was one of the few in my life that wasn't in a perpetual state of hurt and confusion. In the end, I'd written an essay about growing up as my mother's keeper, how I'd resented her and adored her, how I'd played it safe to balance out her daredevil maneuvers, and how I was reaching out to Dartmouth as a tribute to her, taking a chance that she'd never had.

After reading it, Edward stared at me and simply nodded, his eyes shining. "They won't turn you away after they read this, Bella. I promise you."

Desperately, I wanted him to mean himself instead of the Dartmouth admissions committee. I wanted it so badly that without thinking, I leaned a bit closer, willing him to mimic me. When he did, my breath hitched in my chest and I forgot we were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria amidst the smell of Sloppy Joes with his sister sitting at our very table.

Inches away from my face, his mouth spoke softly. "You mother would be so incredibly proud of you if you ever allowed her to read this." His lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Of course, you won't, will you?"

The artificial light created gold flecks in his hair. With a herculean effort, I tore my attention away from them and responded, "Don't be stupid. I'd die if she ever saw this…I mean, I don't exactly paint her in the most positive light."

He scoffed, but his eyes remained kind. "You didn't write a disingenuous puff piece about her, Bella. What you did was capture the essence of who she truly is without sugarcoating her mistakes. You were honest, and because of that honesty, you illustrate just how much you care for her. I think she'd be incredibly honored by what you've written."

"Eh," I shrugged, trying to cover up how flabbergasted his praise had left me. "All that stuff I wrote is just so personal…It's one thing for a bunch of uppity geezers in New Hampshire to see it, but I can't imagine anyone I know reading this. I'd be so embarrassed, and nobody knows I feel like this—" I cut myself off as our eyes met and we both realized that Edward and Edward alone was yet again getting an exclusive peek into aspects of myself I usually kept buried…parts I didn't even let Jake see.

I busied myself with re-editing the essay, and Edward turned to Alice and engaged in an oddly stilted conversation about a weekend hunting trip.

After reading my words for what seemed like the millionth time, I saw Alice watching me, her discussion with Edward now abandoned.

"What's up, Alice?"

"I was just thinking…what are you doing this weekend?"

"Um, it's Thanksgiving, so…nothing actually. Just dinner on Thursday and then eating leftovers with Charlie for three days straight." I didn't add that Jake and I would probably watch Christmas movies on the couch the day after Thanksgiving; we had an unofficial running date every year. Besides, acting like I'd be alone with Charlie was mostly true, considering that after a few helpings of turkey, Jake usually passed out on the couch for hours and left me to weep through _It's a Wonderful Life _by myself.

"Good," she exhaled, her face lighting up. "I was thinking you and I should do something. You could come over—"

"Alice." Edward's tone cut through the congeniality of Alice's invitation like a shard of ice.

Her smile didn't falter. Ignoring her brother, she continued, "We could play board games. I'm particularly fond of _Mall Madness _and _Balderdash_…oooh, or chess! Do you like chess?"

"Yeah, actually. I—"

"We have a prior engagement this weekend, Alice. Don't you remember?" Edward stared pointedly at his sister, who rolled her eyes in response.

"Oh, come on, Edward. We can go camping anytime."

He nearly growled in Alice's direction as he responded, "There is nothing I would rather do this weekend than camp, so stop interfering with plans that were made ages ago."

"Stop being such a killjoy, Edward." Alice turned to me and continued, "Ignore him, Bella. I'd love to get together with you instead of drudging up to Goat Rocks with the likes of him." She jerked her thumb to where Edward sat sullen and silent, spinning the bottle cap I'd discarded on the table.

My heart plummeted as I grew wise to his wishes. Had he wanted me like I wanted him, he'd welcome an excuse to see me over the four-day weekend, to let me a bit further into his life by showing me his room and the extensive CD collection he was always alluding to. Instead, he made it clear he didn't want me anywhere near his house or his family…or himself. _Don't worry, Edward. I get it. _I felt so massively foolish to think he craved my company as much as I urgently yearned for his.

My eyes stung in humiliation as I muttered, "No, it's cool. I should probably make sure Charlie doesn't choke on a drumstick or something. And I heard the weather is supposed to be great on Saturday, so you guys should definitely take advantage." I smiled weakly and rose to my feet. "Uh, I should go…I need to make some corrections on my essay in the computer lab before I forget my train of thought. Later, Alice…See you in English, Edward."

I started walking away and didn't turn when he called out, "Good bye, Bella." His voice was as sincere as always, but I was no longer fooled. I prayed silently that his fingertips would never graze my forearm again; knowing that he felt nothing while I was reveling in his touch broke my heart.

X X X

My depression over Edward's subtle rejection occupied my thoughts throughout the week, past Thanksgiving Day and into Friday. For obvious reasons, the Quileutes didn't chow down on turkey and stuffing, so Billy, and therefore Jacob, didn't show up for dinner Thursday, leaving Charlie and I on our own. With just the two of us and enough food to feed a malnourished football team, the day always felt a bit surreal.

I was grateful when Friday rolled around and I could finally escape the unsettling silence. I needed a distraction and a reminder of where my loyalties lie, so visiting Jake in La Push was the perfect solution.

"You sure you don't want to watch _Miracle on 34__th__ Street _on your dad's couch instead, per the usual?" He asked out of courtesy, already tearing open the container of mashed potatoes I'd hauled in from my truck.

"Eh, it's cool. I mean, how many times can you watch those people wonder if Kris Kringle is _really _Santa Claus? It's so obvious he totally is; you can't fake a beard like that." I shoved a yam in my mouth and searched Billy's small kitchen for a napkin.

We stuffed our faces for a solid half hour. Even though the silence was excusable, what with our mouths overflowing with reheated pieces of heaven, it wasn't exactly comfortable either. There were too many things we weren't saying, subjects neither of us dared to broach.

The ironic thing was that Jake thought he was being smart; he honestly thought he was treading in safe waters when he asked, "How's the Dartmouth essay coming?"

I swallowed the last of the cranberry sauce and shrugged. "It's done, actually." I clicked my tongue and mustered up a weak grin. "Go me."

He played the game, too, smiling with only the lower half of his face. "So when do I get to read it?"

Things that were once a given were now impossibilities. "Uh, I sent it off already. I was sick of fussing with it," I grumbled, picturing the exact place where three hard copies currently rested next to my keyboard.

"Don't you have it saved on your hard drive or something?" He asked dully for lack of anything else to say. I don't think he even realized he hadn't looked up from his food since we'd sat down.

"Probably. Remind me next time you're over," I said, hoping he'd forget all about it. A year ago, he'd be the only person allowed to see something so personal, but now it felt like I would have to do too much explaining about what I'd written.

"'Kay." He took a swig of milk from the mug in front of him. "So, you're happy how it turned out?"

"I suppose."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

A stranger walking by would see us as the world's youngest middle-aged couple. We embodied disenchanted suburbanites, suffering through dinner to keep up appearances and staying together for the sake of the kids. Between pauses in our wooden conversation, the only sound around us was the clanking of our forks against our plates, and we sat opposite each other at the small oak table with our body language failing to signal that we acknowledged the other's presence. I caught my own reflection in the kitchen window, seeing what the passerby would see…and it disgusted me.

Jake started talking again. The small part of him that refused to give up on us fueled on the conversation. I loved that piece of him and hated that my involuntary apathy was killing it. "Sam and Leah are done," he was saying, his voice pained, finally matching the facial expression he'd unknowingly worn for weeks.

I wasn't surprised at his news, given the heartbreaking display we'd all witnessed at the Halloween party. "That's awful. How is she taking it?"

"Nobody's died yet, but if there are any missing persons, she's first on my list of suspects."

"Jake—"

"Hey, don't judge me. You haven't seen her…if you think she was bad before, holy crap, you try talking to her now. The girl's set up permanent residence atop Bitch Mountain." He spotted the furrowing of my brow and softened his tone. "I guess I can kind of understand, though." My chest tightened, but thankfully his head was somewhere else. "Sam's got it bad for her cousin. Like, stalker bad."

"No! The girl from the beach?"

"You got it. She won't give Sam the time of day, though."

"Well, of course not. What is he thinking?"

"No idea. He's kind of an asshole lately."

I'd become so self-absorbed that I could only think wryly that Sam and I had that in common. "Oh really?"

Jake hesitated, pushing invisible food around his empty plate with his fork. "Let's just say the thing with Sam and his cronies has gotten worse."

"Cronies? I thought it was just that guy Paul who followed Sam around."

"Now there's Jared, too. The two of them must be feeding Sam's ego like crazy because last week he got all self-important again and took me aside for another one of his little 'chats' where he tells me to act responsible and set a good example. He acts like he's my dad or something." Jacob shuddered and then averted his eyes.

I knew better than to let whatever it was that was bothering him go. He was hiding something. "Is that all Sam wanted? I mean, what he did was annoying and weird, but it isn't _that _bad, right?"

He grimaced and took to staring out the window. "That wasn't all he said, Bella." His cheeks flushed slightly as he finally turned to look at me. "He…mentioned you, actually."

"Excuse me?" I had absolutely no clue why Sam Uley would reference me of all people. In the three years I'd spent following Jake around La Push, I'd maybe shared two sentences worth of conversation with him, consisting of no more than formal pleasantries.

"This is really stupid, okay? Remember that I told you Sam has gone more than just a little nuts lately? About how he sees himself as some sort of guardian of La Push?"

"Yeah…" Having not the slightest theory about where this was going, I could only shake my head and follow along.

"Well, I guess that includes anything attached to the Quileutes. Which kinda includes you." He chugged the last of his milk and continued to appraise me apologetically. "He knows you go to school with the Cullens, and he mentioned—he mentioned that I should tell you to be careful."

The heat rose to my face, and all the anger I wanted to unleash on Sam Uley boiled my blood. I don't know what enraged me more, the fact Sam felt he could interfere in my life when I was nothing more than a stranger to him or the fact the ridiculous prejudice against the Cullens in La Push apparently extended further than I'd originally thought.

"How is that any of his business, Jake? Where does he get off doing something like that? I don't even _know _him."

Jake was embarrassed at the situation, clearly, but all he did was shrug. "He's pretty much insane, Bella. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

The anger tunneled my vision, and all I could feel was infuriating frustration. Edward and Alice were amazing, kind people who took me in as a friend and made me feel happy during my school days for the first time in years…no, the first time in my life. _How _dare_ Sam Uley_. "So what exactly does he have against the Cullens, anyway? Is he pissed that they're all smart and rich and that he's just some idiot who dropped out of school to run around butting into everyone else's lives?"

It was mean and unfounded, but I didn't really care. Not only did Sam trash two people I cared a great deal for, but he also dragged Jake into the middle of his own unfounded hatred.

Jacob took in my red face, and his expression shifted into confusion. "Why are you letting this bother you? Who cares what Sam thinks?"

"I do, Jake. At least, I care when he's pulling you aside to tell you to reign in your girlfriend, like I'm some unruly dog needing a leash."

"It wasn't like that, Bella. It was more like he was worried about—"

"Stop it. Stop doing that. Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not. I was the one complaining about him in the first place, remember?" Jacob had raised his voice to match mine, but he still looked more lost than irate.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, Jake. Sorry…It's just that Alice and Edward are my friends, and I can't believe somebody who doesn't even know them is talking trash about them all over town. It's so stupid."

Jake played with the ends of his shiny black hair. "If it makes you feel better, he just said you should be careful. He didn't really say much about the Cullens at all." The smallness of Jake's voice should have bothered me more, but I was still distracted.

"Next time he comes up to you with this nonsense, you can tell him that the Cullens are fantastic, sweet people who I trust and—"

"You're wrong, Isabella."

Somewhere during my ranting, Billy had rolled into the kitchen under my radar. I spun to face him.

His icy, almost cruel expression belied the unconditional kindness I'd come to expect from him. His lips turned sharply downward, emphasizing the wrinkles surrounding his mouth in a way that turned him into a stranger rather than the surrogate father I'd known nearly my entire life. When he spoke again, the sternness of his words made me shiver. "The Cullens are exactly the sort of people you should _never_ speak to. Not under any circumstances. I've tried to warn your father, but his stubbornness might just destroy both of you, so I'm begging you to listen to me, Bella."

Nothing about his voice was pleading. I should have been intimidated by his hostility, but all I could do was sneer back at him as he ignorantly badmouthed the boy I secretly loved.

Moving his wheelchair closer to where I sat on my hands at the kitchen table, Billy continued, "They are capable of horrifying things, and if you have any sense, then you will stay clear of them at all times and spend as much time afterschool here in La Push. Despite what you may think of Sam Uley, he's the best thing to happen to the Quileutes in a very long time, and he can protect you."

"Dad—" Jacob began, embarrassed.

I silenced him by placing my hand gently on his. This didn't involve him; it was between Billy and myself. I continued to glare at the sour, misguided man in front of me. "If you knew them, you wouldn't be spitting out these insulting, ridiculous accusations. Alice and Edward Cullen, and their father for that matter, have treated me with kindness, and under no circumstances would they ever hurt me."

Billy watched me between the narrow slits of his eyelids. "You cannot possibly know what you're dealing with…because if you did," he narrowed his stare further, "you would never put yourself, and Jacob by association, into this position. Grow up, Bella, and listen to me. Stay. Away. Do it for yourself, your father. For my son. By simply creating a relationship with them, you're putting everyone you love in serious danger. Stop being selfish and think beyond yourself."

"Dad, please, don't—"

"It's alright, Jake." My voice was steady, but I could feel my pulse throbbing rapidly in my neck.

"No, it's not, Bella." He patted my hand, and stared down at his father. "Dad, you don't have to worry about anything; Bella just sits with them at lunch…I mean, they hardly know each other."

The muscles in my stomach clenched. I couldn't look at Jake as, in barely a whisper, I said, "That's not really true. I told you…we're friends." The word hurt to say, but it was the truth.

Billy moved even closer and placed a firm grasp on my arm. "If you think those people are your _friends_"—he spat out the word as if it disgusted him—"then you are a seriously naïve little girl who has no idea she's playing with fire."

Nostrils flared, I shot a pointed glance at where his hand tightly held my forearm and allowed coldness to pierce my words. "I'd rather be naïve than a cruel, bitter old man who unfairly judges people he doesn't even know."

Billy released his grip instantly.

Jake wouldn't look at me as he coolly said, "Bella, that's my father." He placed his face in his hands, so I couldn't gauge just how much my thoughtless, incensed words had hurt him.

Ashamed, I gasped, "I am so sorry, Jake." I tried to reach out to him, but he jerked away from my touch, still refusing to even look at me.

Billy eyed me, looking more disappointed than disdainful, then made an unceremonious exit to his bedroom. Before he disappeared completely, he called to me, "If you knew what I knew, Bella, you'd think twice about _befriending_ anyone in that family."

His cutting emphasis on "befriending" wasn't lost on me. I wondered if the guilt was simply making me paranoid or if I was just that transparent…regardless, it was possible that Billy knew. Or, at the very least, that he was suspicious. The impact of knowing that Jake's father was aware of my betrayal was too much; the tears gushed from my eyes, moistening my cheeks and spiking my eyelashes, as I took in just how much agony I was causing Jake and, though I was still livid at him, Billy.

After the door to Billy's bedroom slammed shut, Jake and I were left separate and silent, physically sitting together at the table but emotionally in separate zip codes.

Without turning his head in my direction, Jacob handed me a napkin to wipe my face dry. I couldn't stop crying, so I didn't bother with the effort. I struggled to keep my sobs as silent as possible, knowing what I had done merited the pain; I didn't want to take away from Jake's well-justified hostility.

Finally, I couldn't take the quiet any longer. "I can't even begin to tell you how sor—"

"Don't, Bella. Just don't."

I pursed my lips, biting my bottom lip inside my mouth so he couldn't see how hard I was trying to hold myself together. It was his right to fall apart, but I didn't deserve the release.

Jake turned the full force of his wide brown eyes upon me. They were bloodshot, conflicted. "You could have just let it go. You know better than to take him seriously about this whole thing. But you fought…you fought with him when you didn't have to."

I wanted to tell him he was right, to lie down and take it because I'd done so much worse to him. But I couldn't. Not about this, not when his father told me there was something ugly and dangerous about the people whose company I treasured. I couldn't allow Jake to justify what Billy had said, even though I should have.

"I _did _have to, Jake. I told you, they're my friends. They are wonderful, caring people who have made my life so much better. I couldn't—I couldn't let him do that to them. To say those things when there's no way that the Cullens are anything like that." He stared back at me, stone-faced. "Can't you understand that?"

Pushing back his chair so it noisily slid across the tiled floor, Jacob stood and angrily stomped across the kitchen in three paces, tossing his dishes into the sink with such force that his plate cracked in two. His tone biting, he asked, "So you're not sorry, not at all?"

"I shouldn't have called Billy…what I called him, but I'm not going to apologize for defending people I care about."

He stayed across the room, sizing me up as if seeing me for the first time. I felt different now than I had the first time I'd ever set foot into this very kitchen, so it was possible that he was.

"I've never seen you _mean_ before. You can defend people all you want, but you can't do…that. What you said to him, you said it for people you hardly know. I know my dad's a little off when it comes to some stuff, but he's been there for you forever, and you've known these people, the _Cullens_, for a couple of months. I don't get it—no, I don't get _you_."

"He was attacking them…and me, for what it's worth. Was I just supposed to tell him he was right, and let him—"

"Yes. Because he's my dad. Because it isn't that big of a deal."

I clenched my jaw and searched the room for my keys. "It was a big deal to me, Jake."

I saw them on the counter behind where he stood. As I moved toward him, he flinched until he realized I wasn't after his embrace. He grabbed the keychain in his fist and held it away from me. "_Why _is this such a big deal? Who cares what a couple of old men and Sam Uley think of the Cullens?"

I leapt for my keys, but he held them high above my head, beyond my reach. "I care. I care about people lying about those I'm close to. Before the Cullens came along, I had no one to talk to at school. I was depressed eight hours a day until I got out of class and came to see you. I felt alone, like there was something wrong with me. I just…didn't fit in, but then I met Alice and Edward, and suddenly it wasn't the worst thing in the world to go to school every day. Don't you get that? How I can't let Billy treat them like that, after all they've done for me? I'd do it for you, too. Jake, if someone started spreading ridiculous lies about you, I'd do the exact same thing."

Jacob shoved the keys into my palm. He didn't let go of my hand as he spoke. "Yeah, Bella, I know you would. But we love each other. Sometimes, you have to know when to draw a line. You don't have to stomp all over my dad because you're upset about some friends of yours being misunderstood. Dad wasn't hurting anyone; he thought he was looking out for you."

I couldn't believe what he was suggesting. Even if Billy's intentions had been in the right place, his actions certainly weren't. I'd been out of line in speaking to him with such disrespect, but Billy had the nerve to badmouth innocent people, to urge me to cast aside their friendship. And, somehow, Jake thought there was no harm in his father spreading malicious lies. For the first time, the Blacks' cozy kitchen made me feel claustrophobic.

Thumbing the key to my truck, I bolted out the door, stumbling through the yard. Jake raced ahead of me, his newly long legs giving him an advantage.

"You shouldn't drive like this. You're so pissed that you can hardly see straight."

I shook my head, not looking up at him. "I need to get home. I can't be here right now."

Surprisingly, he nodded. "Maybe that's best…just be careful."

I climbed into the cab and started the engine, willing myself to hold back the second round of tears until I was out of Jake's sight.

As I shifted into drive, I heard a tap at my window. My heart stuttered at the idea that somehow Jake would say something to wake us up from this nightmare.

Instead, he mumbled. "Your tire's pretty low. I can put some air—"

"Forget it. I'll stop at a gas station."

"Fine." He turned back toward the house without a second glance.

The tears gushed out so quickly that I tasted salt almost as soon as they left my eyelids. I was furious with Jake, even though I felt like I really didn't have the right. My anger over Billy's behavior was entirely separate from my being in love with Edward; if Billy had only insulted Alice, I likely would have reacted in the same way. Still, getting angry at Jake for pretty much anything seemed inappropriate, seeing as how I had fallen head over heels for someone else when I was supposed to be his. No matter how inconsiderate he acted, what I had done was a million times worse.

I reminded myself that Jake was all I had. More than I deserved, really. I was terrified that maybe I didn't want him, at least not as much as I should. My hands shook against the worn leather of the steering wheel at the thought.

Part of me wanted to turn around, to go back and beg for forgiveness, but another side, an uglier side, told me to keep driving. I needed space, time to think. Edward certainly didn't want me, but did that give me the right to keep my feelings for him secret from Jake? Didn't my boyfriend have the right to know that when it came to Edward, friendship was only the beginning of what I wanted? Further, would Jake even _want _to know, considering nothing would ever materialize between Edward and me?

I was so caught up with the beginnings of my nervous breakdown that I didn't notice the thumping sound coming from beneath my truck. _My tire. Crap._

It was past eleven o'clock at night on Thanksgiving weekend. My only option for an open gas station was the 24-hour BP on the outskirts of town, the one Charlie told me to avoid at all costs. It was on my way home, but it was frequented by lonely truckers and, due to its location directly off 101, late night drag racers that Charlie frequently complained about but could rarely catch. I tried not to think of how Charlie had reported there in response to a late night robbery less than a month ago as I pulled in and searched for the air pump.

Thankfully, I'd found it just in time, as my front passenger-side tire was nearly flat. My eyes were still blurry from the onslaught of tears that hadn't yet completely abated, but I managed to remove the plastic cap on the air valve and attach the hose without too much trouble, though I sniffled during the entire process.

As I waited for the pressure to build, I searched my glove compartment for a napkin to dry my eyes. I was considering blowing my nose on old map of Oregon when I heard a series of loud roars. Three sets of headlights flashed in the distance. Though each vehicle had to be going at least a hundred miles per hour, I instantly recognized the second, a red BMW that had once made my heart sink.

And then I saw the third.

It was easier to spot, both because its speed was decreasing and also because I'd recognize that Volvo even if I were blind. Of course, Edward would be racing his fancy car in this very spot, right when I was covered in my own snot and trembling with uncontrollable nerves.

Even worse was that if he saw me, he'd know I caught him in a lie. He insisted that he and his family were camping this weekend, an obvious bit of dishonesty to keep me from visiting Alice in his house. I didn't want to listen to his excuses; I just wanted to pretend I didn't know, that we were friends without a laundry list of uncomfortable, white lies between us. _Well, white lies and the huge, bold-faced lie involving me being completely, irrevocably in love with him. _

I absolutely could not see him, not now. In a flash, I ripped out the air hose, capped the valve, and started my ignition. The tire was inflated enough to make it home, at least. As his car turned into the parking lot, my truck and I chugged off in the opposite direction.

I was four, maybe five miles outside of Forks when the thumping noise from earlier grew louder and more insistent. Without getting out and examining it, I knew the stupid tire was as flat as a pancake.

I pulled off to the shoulder, determined to rectify the situation on my own, not that I had a choice given the time and the forest that bordered the highway for several miles. I chuckled bitterly as I remembered how Jake had taught me how to change a tire months before…the same day I'd first met Edward, right before my world flipped on its axis.

Yanking the rusty jack from the truck bed, I got to work, letting Jake's instructions filter through my head. Soon, despite working in impossibly dark conditions, I'd successfully propped up the front of the vehicle with the jack, but I had no recollection of how to physically remove the tire. I'd loosened the lug nuts, but the thing wouldn't budge. Lying down, I examined the wheel in the moonlight, feeling over the bolts with my fingertips in order to try to figure out what step I'd missed.

After a few minutes, I decided to lie down flat on my back, under the truck, and peer behind the tire…I knew my idea was probably pointless, but I was frustrated and needed to do something before admitting to myself that I was stranded in the dark, along a highway, completely alone.

As soon as I scooted underneath the Chevy, my hip brushing against the stubborn tire, I knew I'd made a horrible mistake. Next to my waist sat the jack, rusted through and now buckling from the weight of the heavy metal frame. From my position on opposite side of the wheel, I would have never noticed that the jack was straining at its limit, but now, from underneath the truck and behind the tire, I could see that when my hip had hit it, I'd also shifted the jack's position. It wasn't going to hold.

It gave way in shifts. The first movement caused the underside of the truck to fall down only an inch or two from my face. I lied paralyzed against the ground. My legs were free, as only my torso was pinned, but it didn't matter. Though not yet crushed, I had no leverage; I was trapped. The only thing left to do was close my eyes as the second movement brought the frame within millimeters from the tip of my nose.

My eyes started to sting. This was it. I'd always thought it would be a serious fall or a blow to the head. But this, at the mercy of my own beloved truck, was not was what I expected. I'd said good bye casually to Charlie before leaving for Jake's place and talked to Renee just that morning. Those good byes I wouldn't regret. But Billy was another story. And Jake…

I hoped the end would come sooner so I wouldn't have to think about it. I sucked in my breath, as if that would somehow hasten the inevitable.

When I finally let myself exhale, I opened my eyes to see the frame lift. The lifting was slight but fast. Unnaturally fast. I shut my eyes again.

_Maybe I'm already dead._

I felt something on top of me, preventing the truck from crushing my body. Without opening my eyes, I grasped at whatever it was that was saving my life.

It was cold…but familiar.

It was a _person._

My eyes shot open. Edward.

My breathing was shaky, and I could only imagine what I looked like, covered in tears and grease.

As for Edward, he looked terrified. He searched my eyes and then placed a hand gingerly under my head, raising it slightly and bringing our faces closer.

"Bella?" All I could think about was that his body was pressed against mine. "Bella? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

In truth, I was pretty sure I wasn't. Other than my heart palpitations resulting from our close physical proximity, everything was spinning and my head ached, like my skull was shrinking and crushing my brain in the process. I hadn't remembered hitting my head, but…

"Bella! Say something! Please, I need you to wake up. I need you to live. Tell me you can hear me. _Please._" He ran a hand carefully through my hair; he was so close, I could kiss him. I could blame it on the mysterious head injury…pretend I didn't remember it later.

As soon as I shut my eyes, a hand flew to my face and then it moved around my waist. I heard a loud crash and felt a whoosh of air. Then, we were moving. When I re-opened my eyes, he had me in his arms, next to my now partially overturned truck.

We were alone. No EMTs, no jaws of life. His car was nowhere to be seen. Yet…the truck was on its side. And I was alive.

I shifted slightly so I could study his face. He cradled me close, so close that I could smell the sweetness of his scent without even trying. Noticing my movement, he eagerly placed a hand to my face. "Bella? Say something. I'm begging you…say something."

The edge of the truck's frame was bent. In the shape of a hand.

My eyes widened as I lifted a hand to touch his face. "What _are _you?"


	23. Supernatural

**Chapter Twenty-Three Notes: **I listened to the song "Slow Show" by this fantastic band, The National, on infinite repeat while writing this chapter, so you can thank them for this coming out a day or two faster than usual. The responses to the last chapter were so amazing, especially the love for Mall Madness. Thanks for supporting IVO, especially now, 23 chapters in. And please don't be pissed if everything you want to happen doesn't go down in this chapter; I hope you can just enjoy the ride.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Supernatural**

He'd moved my car with a single hand, dragging me out from underneath with the other. Humans just don't do that. He had to be…something else. Something better. Of course.

I think I had always known. Edward was too interesting, too wise, too beautiful, too good not just for the likes of me but for any girl. But in that moment, he was holding me against his body like I was everything to him. He stared down at me, panicked as if he were about to lose something precious.

I had just asked him what he was, and he studied me with terrified, wide eyes…but he still cradled me closely as if I belonged to him.

I realized then that all he had to do was ask, and I would.

Although he wore an expression of almost reluctance, his smooth, cold fingertips started moving in slow strokes against my cheekbones while I laid still in his arms, not wanting to move for fear that he'd let me go. Finally, Edward swallowed and pleaded, "I need you to trust me."

I was in a trance, my head aching, my heart flying. "I trust you completely."

The rest of him was motionless as something just under the surface of his face flickered and then softened. I'd seen him do that before, and I knew what would happen next. Like clockwork, his vulnerability only lasted for a split second before he buried it behind a hard, nearly hostile expression. Suddenly, his hands flew from my skin, and he'd moved me away from his body so that he now supported my weight with only his forearms. He no longer made eye contact, staring out into the dark wilderness past where we crouched alongside the highway as he whispered, "Close your eyes."

Instinctively, I ran my tongue over my lips. I'd never wanted to be kissed by anyone more than I did in that single moment. He'd saved my life, but that had nothing to do with the urge I felt to wrap myself around him and tell him I wanted him, regardless of whatever he was and what he was hiding. My eyes closed, and I waited for my long-suppressed dream to become reality...but I never woke up, and it remained a secret, unrequited fantasy.

Instead, I felt him lift me, followed by frigid, rushing air. It felt like we were moving quickly, but I didn't open my eyes. He'd asked me to keep them shut, and I didn't dare do anything to make him believe I didn't trust him.

I fumbled in my own self-induced blindness as I reached my arms around his neck. My head felt funny, so I used my disoriented state as an excuse to act out my wildest impulses. After I'd gripped onto his body with my fingers pressed against the tight muscles of his neck, I rested my head against his chest. His only reaction was a sharp intake of breath. With my eyes closed, pressed against him, consciousness drifted away.

When I woke up, the feeling of chilled leather under my palms told me I was sitting in his car. Something cold covered my hand, and when I lifted my eyelids, I saw it was his hand.

"Bella?"

"Mmmm."

"Isabella, talk to me. You cannot go back to sleep. Do you understand?"

Behind my forehead, I felt a distinct, unrelenting throbbing, but I also was at peace—he was still touching me.

Blinking slowly, I attempted to get a grasp on my surroundings, beyond the front passenger seat of the Volvo. "Where…?"

It looked like we were around the corner from the gas station, in the parking lot where the old Rite Aid used to be. The passenger door was open, and Edward was bent down on the asphalt, leaning over my seat. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, but you have to stay awake."

I was exhausted. Shutting my eyes again, I murmured, "I'll get up in just a second, promise."

"No." His voice was forceful and serious, but he was gentle as he shook my arm. "Wake up. Please, you have to stay conscious. I think you hit your head pretty hard back there, and I _know _you have a concussion."

I tried to scoff at him, but I was too dizzy to put much emphasis behind the whimper that came out of my mouth. Without opening my eyes, I furrowed my brow and inquired, "How do you know that?"

"You passed out for a minute or two, and you're acting very bizarre."

"Mmm…bizarre how?" I peeked at him through my eyelashes.

He bit his lip, looking younger and shier than I'd ever seen him. "It's nothing—never mind." In an instant, he was in control again, confident and authoritative. "I cannot get behind the wheel until I know you aren't going to pass out on me again. Am I clear?"

"Yeah," I sounded weak, and I wished I didn't feel like I'd gone days without sleep because I wanted to hold onto this moment with him as long as I could.

Edward studied me skeptically before he ran around to the driver's side, jumped in, and twisted his key in the ignition. "I'm trusting you, Bella. Stay with me."

Except for the glow coming off the dashboard, it was dark inside the Volvo, and I felt so calm…I wanted sleep. "I…can't," I muttered, already beginning to doze off against my will.

"Hey!" Urgently, he reached across the console to snap his fingers in front of my face before grabbing my hand. "Talk to me, alright? Just keep speaking so you'll stay awake."

Our intertwined hands now rested in my lap. Consciousness came with the prize of feeling him, so I fought off the drowsiness with everything I had.

Suddenly, I remembered a topic of conversation that would stave off my inexplicable light-headedness. "You saved me. I remember…you flipped over my truck…like you were the Incredible Hulk or something."

"You have a concussion, Bella, I really don't think you—"

"Don't treat me like I'm some brain-damaged idiot. I know what happened." I mustered up all the energy I could and turned my head on its side so I could face him. "You asked me if I trusted you. Remember? Well, I do…I feel like I can trust you with anything. And if you wanted to know something, anything at all, I'd tell you because you're real and honest and you just _always_ understand where I'm coming from and who I am…and I really love…that about you." He was still holding my hand, and I brushed my thumb over his knuckles. "Please, trust me. Whatever it is, Edward, you can trust me."

He took his hand back and placed it on the steering wheel. "You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about," he sneered bitterly.

I was sick of people telling me that. "Then why don't you tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell."

Without even realizing, I'd started to cry for a record third time in a single day. "Stop running away from me. You and I—we're friends, right?" I cringed at my mischaracterization but kept going, not really planning what to say but knowing I'd babble on forever if it meant preventing him from tuning me out. "Tonight was possibly the worst night of my life…I had this horrible fight with Jake where he acted like an asshole and I acted like an even bigger asshole, my tire goes flat in the middle of nowhere, I almost die, and now we're going to the hospital where I will most likely end up spending the night alone in one of those dark rooms where God only knows how many people have died in the very bed I'm sleeping in." I shivered but maintained my focus. "But, the thing is, none of that really matters because—"I sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a rush—"you're here with me now, and whenever you're around, I always feel…alright."

"Alright" was not the correct word. "Amazing," "whole," "alive"—any of those fit perfectly, but he was already freaked out enough that I'd discovered his secret superpower, so I couldn't risk anything else.

Sometime amidst my incoherent yammering, we'd reached the hospital. Neither of us moved to get out the car, which I found odd considering how Edward kept looking at me like I might keel over and die at any second.

"We have to go in," he announced as if talking to himself just as much as to me. He tore open his door, and just as I reached for the handle on mine, he was there, reaching in, unfastening my seat belt, and pulling me into his arms.

I was thrilled until I saw he was again holding me as far away as possible.

"I can walk, you know."

He ignored me and kept heading toward the entrance.

As we reached the sliding doors that led to the ER, he finally peered down at me, albeit just out of the corners of his eyes. He looked tortured as he pleaded, "Bella, I need you not to tell anyone what you think you saw."

"'What I _think_ I saw?' Edward, I—"

"I'm begging you." He turned the full power of his stare on me, and his eyes melted me, leaving no room for debate. "Please."

I nodded. "Of course." I couldn't ever deny Edward anything he asked of me, and even if I did share my story with anyone, they'd think I was insane.

Mrs. Stanley was behind the front desk, meaning Jessica and therefore the entire town would soon know of my misfortune. "Oh my goodness, is she—"

Not bothering with polite courtesies, Edward dully began, "Is my father—"

Dr. Cullen appeared in the lobby before Edward could finish his sentence. Neither looked surprised to see each other.

"Exam room four, Edward."

Without another word, Edward hauled me down to a door near the end of the hall, opened it singlehandedly while balancing me with the other, and rushed me inside. Dr. Cullen followed, shutting the door behind him immediately.

Without hesitating, Dr. Cullen was flashing a light into my irises. "How long has it been?"

Edward stood at the side of the exam table but kept his distance from me. "Twenty minutes, roughly. We would have arrived sooner, but she was having difficulty staying conscious and I had to work to keep her awake."

Dr. Cullen turned to me. "Can you tell me what you remember? What exactly hit you, Bella?"

Edward, now pacing back and forth, cut me off before I could get a word in. "She couldn't tell me. I can only imagine it was something from the underside of that truck." He spoke about the Chevy like it was a villainous human being.

"Nothing hit me. I was just pinned and—" I broke off, not wanted to say too much; I didn't know if I had to keep Edward's secret, superhuman strength from his own father. "Nothing ever touched my head; I would've felt it."

Edward's fingers pressed against his temples. "No, Bella, you don't _remember _anything hitting you. That doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"But I didn't blackout, not until after you—after I was out from under the truck. Sure, I had my eyes shut for a little bit, but…"

I cringed as I recognized Edward was right, most likely. My eyes had been shut part of the time I'd waited for what I thought would be certain death. The truck kept shifting toward me, its ancient, greasy underbelly rattling down on top of me in agonizing spurts. I'd laid there feeling exhausted with my sinuses clogged from nearly an hour of relentless sobbing, and my head had been spinning from what I thought was mental exhaustion...but now I understood that it might have been worse than just depression. My stomach lurched at the idea that something was wrong with me, that I hadn't escaped the near-horrific accident unscathed.

"You're going to be fine, Bella," Edward assured me, instantly spotting my anxiety, but he was at least six feet away from where I now trembled on the exam table, so his words did nothing to calm me.

There were going to be tests. Lots of them, all with acronyms like CT and MRI, meaning little to me beyond the fact that something in my brain was amiss that medications and rest couldn't fix. Charlie would start sneaking in my room in the middle of the night again to make sure I was still alive. Renee would call six or seven times a day just to "check in" just like she did for the three months following last January's coma. As for Jacob...I didn't know where he and I stood now, but the old Jake would fuss over me and try his best to cheer me up with his relentless good humor. Underneath, all of them would worry and handle me with kid gloves, and I again would feel weak, as if my life in their hands instead of my own.

Dr. Cullen was less brash than Dr. Gerandy, my usual go-to physician who looked at me like I was a ticking time bomb. Edward's father talked me through the paces without comparing me to a brain-damaged linebacker or a boxer who'd undergone one too many KOs. Kindly, he did his best to soften the blow that I'd have to stay overnight for observation.

Halfway through Dr. Cullen's speech, a nurse came in to tell me Charlie was on his way. I couldn't look anywhere but down; I would not let them see me cry. Edward had already seen my pathetic tears in the car. What he must think of me only made me sob harder: I was helpless and likely broken due to my own knack for catastrophe. Next to what I now knew about him, that he was even more special and indestructible than I'd originally thought, I felt more worthless than ever before.

Dr. Cullen left to prep for the first round of scans and reflexivity tests. Edward hovered awkwardly in the corner.

I wept, and he did nothing. I couldn't take it. "Just go."

Edward dropped his head down to the floor and nodded. "If that's what you want."

He started to move, so, despite my humiliation and self-doubt, I whispered, "It's not."

Finally, he was next to me, close and watching. "Then I'll stay."

I curled up into a ball on the sterile, inflexible sheet of white paper lining the table. Edward pulled up a chair and sat himself close to my head.

I hid my face in the crook of my arm, and minutes passed soundlessly until his voice shattered the silence. "I hate hospitals, too, you know."

He'd remembered what I'd told him in the car. Though he could never know how I dreaded nights in the dark, inhuman ICU where the only sound keeping me company was the faint, repetitive beeping of the heart monitor, I appreciated the sentiment.

"Thanks," I murmured. "You don't have to do that."

From under my forearm, I could see him appraising me curiously. "I'm not lying. I've never felt comfortable in them, not since my mother passed."

Of course. His parents were dead. Somehow I'd never figured that out, even though I knew he was a foster child of Dr. Cullen's. "I'm sorry."

He shifted in the hard, plastic chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I rolled over on my side so that I was in the fetal position, facing him.

I breathed deeply and said, "I've spent a total of twenty nights inside this place. Most of them were last January when—well, you know…but I've never gotten used to it. I always wake up right before dawn because I have these nightmares where I'm in a full-body cast with tape or something over my mouth so I can't talk or scream or hardly even breathe. Then, I can't get back to sleep because it's just too quiet, plus it smells weird, like bleach and stale coffee. So, I start thinking about what I said before, about how many people have died exactly where I'm sleeping, possibly even on the same sheets." I stole a glance at Edward and saw him hypnotically watching me, wordlessly telling me he got it, got me, and didn't think I was crazy.

Sagely, not teasing in the least, he asked, "So you're afraid of ghosts, then? Of the supernatural?"

I saw right through him…he was trying to tell me something, and if he was supernatural, then I utterly devoid of fear. "No. Not at all."

"And you're certain about that?" he asked coldly, like he'd figured out a secret I was trying to keep from him.

"Absolutely," I responded, refusing to look away from the ineffective expression of intimidation on his face. Nothing he did with his features could ever chase me away. Gaining strength, I bent my elbow on the pillow and propped up my head. "Thinking about all those dead people doesn't scare me at all; it just depresses me because they died _here_, alone and powerless in this sterile, impersonal void where patients are treated like science experiments instead of people."

He leaned against the back of the chair and stared unapologetically into my eyes. "I understand, Bella, more than you could ever know." He didn't continue, causing me to sigh in frustration.

"Tell me why, Edward." The confidence in my own voice surprised me, though it shouldn't have; every once in awhile, he brought out this amazing, courageous version of me that I'd never known existed.

Edward narrowed his eyes before unexpectedly opening them wide, honesty emanating from his face as he absentmindedly clasped his hands together on his lap. "My parents died a long while ago, within the span of a few days of each other." He spoke softly, lost in his thoughts, unconsciously letting me into his head. "The last memory I have of my mother is her lying in a hospital bed, helpless and dying. It's hard for me, even now, to sit in one of these rooms and not see her face as she told me not to worry, that everything would turn out as it should." He turned to me suddenly, as if remembering that I could hear him.

"Maybe it still will."

"No," he responded, his gaze fixated on my face, "it won't. My parents are gone, and I can't go back to that life or have any of the things my mother wanted for me."

Bravery pushed me to smile soothingly at him. Gently, I challenged him. "Now look who's afraid."

Shaken from his trance, he gripped his hands together tightly and locked his jaw. "You're concussed, Bella. You can't possibly fathom—"

The sound of sudden movement in the hallway captured our attention. I saw Charlie conferring with Dr. Cullen through the glass window on the opposite wall. Edward stood, quickly walking to the door.

He was leaving me.

Dejected, I asked, "Where are you going?"

"The people you care about are coming for you, Bella." He reached for the doorknob, resigned. "You'll be fine now."

Then he was gone.

I understood immediately what he'd meant by "people." Just beyond Charlie and Dr. Cullen, Jacob rushed by, jerking open the door and falling to my side.

"Bells, baby, I am so sorry. For everything. I can't believe I let you drive away on that tire. This is my fault. I should have never—"

"Stop, Jake." I ran my fingers through his hair, which was windswept of matted; Jake always drove with the windows down when he was tired in order to keep himself alert. Seeing him on his knees before me, I didn't want to coddle him; he deserved better, or at least part of the truth. "Edward Cullen saved my life tonight. Did you know that?"

"Yeah. Your dad told me when I got here a few minutes ago." He didn't demand any information from me; instead, he merely stroked my arm and planted feathery kisses on my forehead. I always knew Jacob understood the girl I used to be better than anyone, but I'd failed to see how he'd also come to understand parts of the person I was becoming. He didn't press me to explain what happened because he knew that for whatever reason, I didn't want to tell him. Jake chose his battles wisely, knowing that there were much more important questions he wanted answered.

The hostility from earlier faded, but we were still fatigued from all of our pretending. "Jake," I asked carefully, warding off the urge to curl up into a tight ball and pass out, "can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything." I could smell his breath as he rested his forehead against mine. The warmth from his skin overwhelmed me; he felt like home, but home wasn't necessarily a place I wanted to be anymore.

"Are you happy?"

Knowing what I was getting at, he replied, "No, but I will be."

I freed a knot from his hair with my fingers. "What do you mean?"

"Look, I'm not going to lie; things between us have been pretty, um, not great lately. But I love you, Bells, and I'd rather be miserable with you than miserable without you." He moved his face back from mine and patted my arm. "We'll get through this."

I gripped the side of the exam table. "You don't know that."

His face fell a little when he saw I wasn't as confident as he was trying to be. Fearfully, he took in a staggered breath and incredulously asked, "You're not sure about us anymore?"

Falling back against the pillow, I admitted, "Jake, I'm not sure about anything right now, but mostly I don't know what's happening to _me_. The things that used to make sense don't anymore. I don't even know what's right and what's wrong, if I'm being selfish by wanting...certain things or if I'm being brave for recognizing that this whole other world exists and that maybe there's more to life that just--"

"That just me? Than us?" Jacob moved to my side, his expression flashing back and forth between anguish and anger.

"No, that's not–"

"Bella," my name rolled off his tongue as if it tasted bitter, "is there someone else?"

I told him the truth, but nothing more than he needed to know. I couldn't hurt him over some ridiculous fantasy that would never materialize in reality. "I'm not cheating on you, Jake. I would never do that." _No, what I'm doing–what I'm feeling—is far worse._

"You didn't answer my question." He ripped slits in the thin cover of the exam table as he spat out his words.

"What exactly are you getting at?" I was going to make him say it. Someone had to, and if he wasn't even sure what he was talking about, I was not going to hurt him unnecessarily.

"Edward Cullen, Bella. He's saved your life twice, and you tore my father to pieces in order to defend him."

"I've told you: we're friends."

He scoffed. "Apparently."

"It's not like that, Jake." And really, it wasn't. "What Edward and I are–it will never go past friendship, I swear it."

Jacob wasn't convinced. He stood and kicked the chair where Edward had sat moments earlier. Its aluminum legs wobbled against the tile floor, creating a ringing in my ears.

I wanted to stand with Jacob and shake some sense into him, except I was too dizzy to rise to my feet and didn't have any sense of my own left to share. Instead, I practically shouted, "Look at him, and then look at me! He and I do not belong together. Even if we were the last two people on Earth, it wouldn't make any sense for him to be with me." I lowered my voice, saying to Jake as much as to myself, "So you don't have to worry about anything happening between Edward and me. We're friends, nothing more."

All Jake had to do was ask the right question, and he'd fit together the puzzle of my recent despondent behavior. One question, and he'd know the complete truth, that despite Edward feeling only platonic appreciation for me, I was irreversibly in love with him. But Jake didn't ask, probably because such a question was unthinkable; how could I, the girl who'd loved him unconditionally, trade something so real and pure for a one-sided love could only end in loneliness? Jake loved me too much to ever think me capable of such treachery.

His loyalty was misplaced, of course, but coming clean meant hurting him beyond repair. I wasn't sure if I could ever destroy him like that, casting him aside just because he was no longer enough, because I'd fallen for someone else who'd unknowingly taught me magical, passionate love really did exist. Keeping my love for Edward from Jacob didn't really feel selfish anymore; instead, I did it for Jake, not for myself, to protect him from the pain I kept buried inside; I, and I alone, would bear the brunt of knowing I loved Jacob but never truly was _in _love with him. I wouldn't break his heart just so I could pine away in solitude for Edward, someone who would never return the feelings I had for him. Jake felt for me what I felt for Edward, and I couldn't allow my Jacob, my best friend, to feel the debilitating pain of rejection, a feeling I now knew far too well.

Still...I wondered if Jake could find someone better, someone who deserved him. It was possible that a girl out there would love him just as much as he loved me now, and that by preventing him from feeling pain, I was also keeping him from feeling mutual, unbridled passion.

In the end, I couldn't decide what was right.

Outside the door, Dr. Cullen and Charlie were still talking, likely going over the intricate details of my mammoth medical history.

I reached for Jake's hand, and because he was Jake, he let me have it. "I don't know what I'm doing."

He'd calmed down a bit, but the hurt was still evident in his hunched posture. "I'm going to give you the time you need, Bella. Because I love you. Because I know that you love me, too." I swallowed hard and held my arms against my chest as he continued, "These accidents keep happening, but they always make me appreciate us more, what we have. I won't let you slip away from me. I almost lost you today, and it won't happen again."

He nodded to himself, an act of finality signaling he'd said his peace. He hovered over me and kissed me softly. I wondered if he could taste the salt from my now-dried tears.

"I'll wait outside while they run those tests on you," I almost smiled at how he knew the routine so well, "but when they assign you a room, I'm crashing at your side. No worries, okay?"

"Jake, it's almost one in the morning. Go home. Go to bed."

"No, really–"

"I insist. I'll feel awful if you stay." It was true, though not just because he'd get a crick in his neck and a terrible night's sleep. As much as I feared being alone in my hospital room, with Jake at my side, I'd feel just as empty as I would if I were the only person left in the entire building.

He rolled his eyes and planted another kiss on my lips. "I'm going to miss the sleep talking, though."

"Please, Jake, you know better than that. As soon as I get some painkillers in me, I'm a regular, unconscious mute."

He grinned, his first of the evening. "That's right, I forgot. At least I'm not missing out, I guess." The things I likely said in my sleep these days would have ruined us both, but thankfully, I hadn't fallen asleep in front of Jake in weeks.

Jake's grin vanished, and he grew serious. "You're going to call me the minute you get home tomorrow." He hung his head, his confidence waning. "Just so I know you're okay. We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to."

I nodded and gave him the faintest of smiles. I knew for a fact our conversation would only last for several seconds, as there was nothing I wanted to tell him.

X X X

After Jacob left, I endured another hour of poking, prodding, and scanning from various types of the latest medical technology. At 2AM, Dr. Cullen finally told me I could go to sleep. Charlie vowed to crash in the waiting room if I needed anything, but I convinced him I was well-versed in hospital slumber; I hated to think of my father needlessly miserable, since his presence wouldn't remotely aid in keeping my own fears at bay.

One of the nurses gave me something to dull the ache building under my skull, and I fell anxiously into a superficial sleep.

Predictably, it didn't last, and two hours later, I woke with a start. My heart felt heavy in my chest as I recognized the familiar hollowness, the smell of cleaning products wafting through my nose and creating nervous knots in the pit of my stomach. Quietly, the weight of the day's events fell upon me, and I started to weep silently.

"Don't cry, Bella. You're fine; there's nothing to be upset about."

"Jesus!" I yelped, practically choking on my tears and realizing for the first time that I was not alone. Across the room, Edward sat in corner, his face barely visible in the shadows.

He stood and approached the door. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't be here."

"No!" For the second time that evening, I couldn't let him walk away. "Stay."

I motioned for him to move the chair he'd been sitting in closer. "What are you doing here?" Relief made me smile like a lunatic, but I didn't care.

He traced a crack in the tile with his foot. "I knew you didn't want to be alone, and I'm not one for sleeping, so..."

"I'm glad you're here," I muttered shyly. Refusing to think of what I was doing, I reached out to touch his arm, but he jerked it to his lap, beyond my grasp.

His face went cold. "Bella, I need to discuss something with you."

My heart stalled in my chest as I nodded for him to continue.

"About today, about...what happened." He closed his eyes and looked pained. "I don't think it's wise for us to remain friends. My life is very complicated and involving you was a mistake. Please understand–"

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Edward. I promise."

He wouldn't look at me. "Regardless, we need to put some distance between us, and I know that–"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. No distance. We are friends, and friends don't push each other away because one of them has a secret identity and supernatural powers."

He scoffed. "You're assuming that I'm some sort of superhero, like a character from a comic book." He turned to face me. "But I'm not, Bella. I'm something else, something from a nightmare. Trust me, it's best that you stay as far away as possible."

I swallowed hard and adamantly went on. "No. Just tell me the truth. I know you, and I know that there's nothing bad about who you are. Please."

"Stop pretending to be so brave. You cannot possibly understand what I am. Believe me, if you could, you'd run screaming in the opposite direction. That I can promise you."

"I don't believe you." My eyes were huge as I refused to let him scare me. "I can't not have you in my life. You can't leave me alone at school; you and Alice are the best part of my day." I sat up and grabbed his arm. His skin was cool to my touch, and I realized that I'd been subconsciously missing that feeling for hours. "You've saved my life twice now, and I—we just _get _each other, you know? You can trust me. I won't run away from you."

He took my hand off his arm and placed it gingerly on my lap. "Yes, you will."

I grimaced and shook my head. "Try me."

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "It's not my place. This is beyond just you and me." He sighed again. "I'm sorry."

We sat in silence for at least twenty minutes. I didn't want to say a word for fear that he'd leave me again. The fact that he stayed and didn't abandon me gave me hope that he'd forget all about his vow to tear us apart. Being so close to him put me at peace. Before I could slip into unconsciousness, I turned my head so that I could see every inch of his face. "Edward?"

"Bella," he answered, his tone flat, likely worried that I was going to try to force his secret out of him.

"I'm not going to ask you anymore, but I am going to find out what you are."

He spoke in an uncharacteristically small voice. "I really wish you wouldn't."

I ignored him. "And when I do find out, it's not going to matter."


	24. Truth

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Truth**

Maybe it was because I was the kid of a cop, but I'd never been one for surprises, mostly because I could usually spot a twist in the road coming from a mile away. Without even trying, I always figured out the endings of movies and mystery novels long before the big reveal. The key was to look at the details, especially the ones that, upon first glance, only had a seemingly minor connection to the big picture. I took that approach and applied it to the enigma that was Edward Cullen.

After my release from the hospital on Saturday afternoon, I sprawled out on my bed and examined every snippet of information I had on him…

Edward was unfailingly perceptive, unnaturally strong, and far too mature for the average high school boy. His every physical attribute was beautiful, and he saw straight through me into the very core of everything I was and wanted to be. Depending on the day, his eye color varied from a tawny amber that told me he'd be unwaveringly kind to the blackness of a moonless midnight that was always accompanied by intense brooding and inexplicable standoffishness. He and his family shared no common DNA, but all were stunningly flawless with skin of same pale pallor. They hailed from Alaska and apparently shared a healthy bank account…In sum, I had plenty of details, but still nothing clicked.

Then, as I was flossing a kernel of corn out of my teeth before bed, a light bulb went off. I'd eaten the corn that evening, the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers, and it bitterly reminded me of my other tasting of leftovers two nights earlier at Jacob's house, when Billy had subjected me to his baseless warnings about Edward and his family. And therein was the answer: the Quileutes knew. The source of Edward's strength, the same strength that made him my guardian angel and their dangerous nightmare—whatever it was, the Quileutes knew.

Obviously, I couldn't expect an answer out of Billy; the man refused to say anything to me beyond cryptic warnings and veiled threats. Jake didn't know anything at all, of course, or else he would have spilled the secret to me immediately. But Sam Uley…Sam had warned Jake to keep me safe from the Cullens, which told me that he was likely privy to the secret.

Even before his bizarre disappearance months ago and subsequent six-inch growth spurt, Sam always intimidated me; I couldn't exactly run up to him and eke the gossip out of him like we were old friends. Still, I didn't care. I had to know, and he was my only hope. I fell asleep that night with Sam on my brain and plans to drive out to La Push on Monday night after school.

X X X

Come Monday, Edward was nowhere to be seen. By lunchtime, I hadn't had any contact with him at all, which was unusual, given how he and I had been seeing more and more of each other in the hallways before school and during breaks in classes. When noon finally rolled around, I sat nervously at our table, alone.

The minutes ticked by, and then, to my partial relief, Alice plopped down across from me. She spotted the pained look on my face and smiled tentatively, her eyes knowing, telling me I didn't need to pretend with her.

"He's not coming, is he?"

She averted her eyes. Her relentless bubbliness was nowhere to be seen. "Not today, Bella."

I swallowed and crinkled my forehead as my worry increased. "When, then? He can't hide from me forever."

Her lips twitched, but she didn't lift them into full-blown smile. "Technically, he can…but don't worry, he won't. You won't let him."

I rolled my eyes but smiled back at her, grateful she wasn't giving me the cold shoulder as well. "Meaning what exactly?"

Looping her finger around the delicate sliver chain she wore around her neck, she said, "Meaning you need to try harder, not just to find out his secret—our secret—"she eyed me cautiously—"but to be honest with him. About everything."

"Hmm?" I choked out as her candor sent my heart on a nosedive into my stomach.

She clasped her hands together on the tabletop and leaned forward, staring me square in the eye. "Don't make me say it."

I couldn't breathe. "Don't worry, Alice, I'm not falling for him. I'm not one of the legions of fangirls that fall at his feet. We're strictly in the friend zone, so relax." I sputtered out the excuses too fast; their choppy, monotone quality betrayed my darkest secret.

Alice sat upright and placed a slender finger to her lips. I couldn't move, but I still felt motion sickness. "Stop. Use your head. Please; you're smarter than this. You're not blind."

"I'm not delusional either." I ignored the gentle but dubious expression flickering across her face. "I have someone. He is _everything_ to me. You can't possibly—"

"Bella, I really like you. So much, really." Light danced back into her eyes. "And maybe I have no right to say this, but I will anyway. We could play games forever and this would still go nowhere. So I'm shooting straight from now on. Edward is my brother. He never likes anyone. But he likes you. More than—"

She broke off as involuntary tears crept down my cheek. "Don't do that, Bella," she whispered soothingly.

I was exhausted with my never-ending game of pretend. No longer could I act like I didn't know what she was talking about; the truth was written all over my face. Stuttering, I wiped the back of my hand against my face and asked, "Does he—does he know?"

Alice leaned back against her chair, the confidence in her posture making her seem taller than she actually was. "My brother is an excellent liar, Bella. Especially when it comes to lying to himself."

"So he doesn't know?" My voice was desperate. "Alice, he _can't_ know. I can't lose him. I can't hurt…people in my life who trust me."

She frowned before her face warped into uncertainty. "This isn't going to make any sense, but just bear with me. We are friends, you and me, right?" She smiled nervously as she appraised every movement of my face.

I nodded vigorously. Somehow, though we knew little of each other, we were. I trusted her even though I had no proof that I could.

She apparently believed me, so she continued, "I'm good at…predicting things. I know certain things before the happen, and I know how you feel about him." She allowed herself to relax slightly. "But, then again, I don't think one needs to be omniscient to see that."

My stomach lurched, and I moved my stare to the table so she couldn't fully see my terror. She _knew. _Somehow. Alice knew that I was no better than a lovesick schoolgirl on the brink of being crushed by unrequited love. She pitied me because my feelings for Edward were pathetically one-sided. Here she was, letting me down easy, but I was still humiliated.

Her hand reached across the table and carefully met mine. It was chilly like her brother's. "I've kept it from him, Bella, not an easy feat considering what he can—how he easily he reads people. I think even if I told him, he wouldn't believe me." She furrowed her brow and tilted her head in my direction. "But I kept your secret because it's not my place to step in, even though I want to, desperately." She sighed as evidence of her frustration. "I admit, I've hinted relentlessly and still he won't believe. And it frustrates me beyond belief because I never see you telling him."

"That's because I won't, Alice." I sounded colder than I'd intended. "It's a suicide mission."

She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut, her thoughts moving elsewhere. I stood abruptly, needing some air before I fell apart in the middle of the cafeteria.

Before making my escape, I continued, "But I will find out what he's hiding from me. I don't want to lose what he and I do have…our friendship." The more I said it, the more I hated the word, but, because it was all he would allow me, I couldn't describe what Edward and I had any other way.

"Bella?" Alice called to me carefully before I could leave with the last word.

"Yeah, Alice?"

"I really hope you do find out." Her eyes were huge, which told me there was so much more she wanted to say. "And you're right, by the way."

I squinted at her, perplexed. "About?"

She grinned, but her eyes were still forlorn. "Once you know, you won't care."

"And this is what your psychic premonitions are telling you?" I asked sarcastically, surprised that Edward had told her I'd said that and wondering if she bought into astrology and Ouija boards as well.

Her voice was even and doubtless as she responded, "No. I just know because you're you."

X X X

For such a small town, it was impossible to find what I was looking for in La Push. I'd gone to the address listed for the Uleys in the phonebook, but no one was home. I checked First Beach, despite the fact that rain was now coming down in buckets, and found it deserted. I drove by the high school even though Sam had graduated years ago, but I saw neither Sam nor his newfound cronies Jared and Paul. Eventually, I pulled into the parking lot of the small, rundown drug store and rested my forehead against the steering wheel in aggravation.

When I heard a tap against the windshield, I nearly jumped out of my skin. On the other side of the rain-streaked glass pane was Sam Uley's stoic, unwelcoming face.

Nervously, I jerked the window lever in circles until the glass disappeared down into the door and Sam and I were face to face.

He narrowed his eyes and spoke. "You're looking for me."

Warding off the intense feeling of intimidation coursing through me, I timidly answered, "Uh, yeah. I am."

"Why." He spoke monosyllabically without a trace of confusion.

To give me courage, I remembered the rage I felt over how he'd treated Jacob, how he'd abandoned Leah, and how he'd took it upon himself to badmouth the Cullens without having met them once. The temperature of my blood began to rise, and I did my best to control the speed of my words. "You have a problem with the Cullens. I want to know why."

His eyes turned malicious at the name. "You have no right to know. The only information you need is that if you value your life and the lives of your family and _friends_," he taunted me with the word, holding Jacob over my head, "then you should keep your distance."

"And if I don't?" I apprehensively goaded him, my voice trembling.

"You'll destroy yourself and anyone else unlucky enough to touch your life."

I wanted to be braver, to demand answers, but Sam appraised me with near disgust, as if I weren't worthy of his presence. "Please," I pleaded, "I need an answer."

He backed away from my truck, the pounding rain creating a barrier between us. "You're not one of us, and you associate with them," he said evenly but without any semblance of compassion. "It's not your place."

Before I could beg further, he vanished into the downpour. My entire body shook with panic. I was seated in the driver's seat, but I had absolutely nowhere to go.

I hated Sam…for no good reason, other than he hated Edward, whom I would give anything to call my own. How anyone could look at Edward, the boy who saved my life twice without expecting an ounce of gratitude, with such disdain was beyond me. Sam interfered with Jake as well, lecturing him, trying to change him from the carefree kid who never saw anything but the best in anyone. I felt the loathing for Sam Uley build deep in the pit of my stomach.

As I seethed with derision, disliking Sam with an unjust intensity, I realized who I now resembled.

_Leah. _

She now had a vendetta against the world, especially Sam, and maybe, as selfish as the thought was, I could use that to my advantage. I was blinded by my own relentless desire to unlock the secret that kept Edward away from me, so I forged on, even though I knew any answer I got would be at the expense of forcing Leah to discuss a subject that would cause her unbearable pain.

Partially sickened with myself, I drove as fast as my truck would go until I reached the Clearwaters' property. Leah's beat-up Civic sat in the driveway, telling me I had hit pay dirt.

I tore out of my truck without an umbrella and sloshed through the rapidly deepening puddles. In seconds, I found myself dripping wet and pounding on the front door with obstinate, frantic force.

Seth answered, his brow furrowing quizzically at my deranged appearance. "Bella? What's going—"

"Leah," I panted. "I need to talk to Leah."

"Uh, sure. She's upstairs, but I don't know if she wants any visitors."

I brushed past him, rushing up the narrow staircase, only to be stopped by Leah's bedroom door. I jiggled the knob, but it was locked. I tapped ferociously against the plywood. "Leah? It's Bella. I need to talk to you."

"Get lost." Like Sam, Leah now spoke in flat, unfeeling syllables.

I wouldn't go. She had every right to be bitter, but I was so close to knowing how she felt, to losing someone precious, that I couldn't give up. "Please, Leah. It's important."

"Get out of my house," I heard her sneer.

I banged harder on her door, unsuccessfully trying to stave off tears of desperation. "_No_."

She yanked open the door, nearly ripping it from its hinges, and met my eyes with disgust. "I want you gone. Now."

Through the globs of moisture pooling in my eyelids, I stared her down. I spoke quickly, hysterically, before she could slam the door in my face. "Can you tell me why Sam hates them—the Cullens? What he's got against them?"

I hadn't thought it possible, but her eyes flashed with an even more intense hatred, fully replacing the beauty and innocence of the face she once wore with an evil, hag-like version that both scared me and caused my heart to break for her. "You know, don't you, Leah? You know, even though you're not…supposed to?" I was grasping at straws, but what I saw in her expression told me I could be right, that she knew something.

She balled up her fist and sucked in the stale air between us. I thought she was going to clock me, but if she could tell me something, anything at all, I'd gladly pay the price for that knowledge with a broken nose or a black eye. Instead, she smirked with the ugliest, most twisted leer I'd ever seen. "They'll ruin you, too, you know. Just like they did to me." She practically choked on her own bitterness. "They caused Sam to turn into someone else, just like Jacob will. They're the reason Sam left, the same reason Jacob will leave you." She mercilessly gripped the doorframe, her knuckles turning white as the wood refused to buckle. "But then again, from what I've heard, maybe you deserve it."

Even though I had no idea what Leah was talking about, I was terrified. I shivered and, out of utter confusion, whispered, "What?"

"My dad says you're friends with them. But you don't know. You have _no idea_ what they've done, how they've caused everything to change." Her voice broke finally. Allowing me to see her brief moment weakness only enraged her further.

"Leah, I'm sorry, but I don't—"

"You really want to know what they are? Your friends, the Cullens?" She spat their name in a hiss.

For a few moments, I stood opposite her, my arms wrapped around myself, partially wanting to reach out to comfort her but petrified to actually do so. Leah shook silently, her eyes bloodshot and squinting but her supply of tears long extinguished.

In a maniacal whisper, she continued, "I'm not supposed to tell. Hell, I'm not even supposed to _know._" She released her iron grip on the door and splayed her palms in the air, evidencing the tension that wracked her entire form. "But, my father thinks I needed to for my own 'peace of mind,'" she scoffed with disgust. "The love of my life leaves me—no _destroys_ me—and somehow the truth is supposed to fix me?" She staggered toward me so that we were mere inches from each other, her voice growing in both volume and intensity. "Sam left me because the Cullens turned him into something else, something that made him not love me anymore, that made him fall for my cousin, my best friend, the girl who I learned to ride a bike with when I was seven and spent sleepovers with talking about the boys we'd marry someday. Well, guess what, Bella? The boy I was supposed to marry now wants to marry _her. _Because of _them. _The Cullens. The bloodsucking leeches who were supposed to be nothing more than made-up monsters in the scary stories my dad used to tell around the campfire."

I sensed I should go, not only because I wasn't getting any coherent answers out of her but also because I felt like I was slicing into her slowly with a rusty, razor-sharp knife. "Leah, I'm so sor—"

She grabbed my shoulders suddenly and flared her nostrils. "Vampires, Bella. They're very real, and I promise you, they will _ruin_ you."

Leah tightened her grip as I flinched, her fingernails slightly digging into my shoulder blades. Before I could process the weight of her words, she released me and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Tearlessly, she sobbed, her fists clenched at her sides as her body convulsed uncontrollably.

I sunk down next to her, moving to wrap my arms around her, but she swatted me away and crawled back so she could reach the edge of her door and furiously slam it shut inches from my face.

_Vampires. _The word hit me as I blindly stumbled down the stairs and outside onto the Clearwaters' porch. It was ridiculous, a clear sign that Leah had gone completely insane, but yet…

My thoughts from the day before flooded my brain.

_Edward was unfailingly perceptive_.

_Unnaturally strong_.

_Far too mature for the average high school boy_.

_Beautiful. _

_With eyes that varied in color depending on his mood. _

_His skin, pale and cold. _

I sunk into the cab of my truck as I noticed for the first time observations that previously eluded me.

_He spoke with the clarity and cadence of a different era._

_He was absent on nice days, whenever the sun shone. _

_Everyone, including Edward himself, told me he was dangerous._

Vampires existing at all was a ludicrous concept.

The idea of vampires existing in Forks was even crazier.

The idea of Edward as a vampire…somehow didn't seem preposterous at all. It should have, but somehow it just fit. He'd lifted a truck off of me with a single, effortless shove, and as soon as I'd processed that, I could believe that he was a fictional creature, that he was more than just an average human being.

He was special, so…of course.

I could have spent the next hour trying to talk myself out of the idea, knowing that believing it warranted confinement in a mental institution, but I _liked _it. In fact, I liked a lot. It answered so many questions I'd asked myself for months. And…though I refused to dwell on the thought, it possibly explained why he'd kept his distance from me.

But it also raised questions. He didn't have fangs, as far as I could see. He came out during the day. Most importantly, he hadn't sunk his teeth into me and sucked the life out of me.

Billy had said the Cullens were dangerous, and Edward agreed with him. But I didn't. I knew Edward would never hurt me; I trusted him completely. He'd saved my life, in more ways than just catching me on the Newtons' dock and preventing my truck from crushing me along the highway. When I was with him, I was happier than I'd ever been. He made me believe in myself and, though I frequently felt incoherent in his presence, he also made me feel smart, so much so that I sent off an application to Dartmouth College and volunteered answers in class for the first time in my life. He laughed at my jokes and finished my thoughts. He got even the most bizarre parts of who I was and liked aspects of me I was embarrassed of. Thinking of him made me smile, even when I was alone in my bedroom or in the middle of a crowd of my classmates at school. He _understood _me, and I wanted to understand him, all of him, even the potentially blood-hungry side of him that might cause him to kill me.

Alice was right; I didn't care what he was. I just wanted him to be mine, or at the very least, part of my life.

It was entirely possible, probable in fact, that he wasn't a vampire, that he was just a very special person with supernatural abilities, like Clark Kent or Peter Parker. Or that I was totally off my rocker and had fabricated him completely. Regardless of what he was, superhero, figment of my imagination, or bloodsucking, mythical monster, I had to see him. Immediately.

Jerking my truck onto the 101, I sped as fast as I could go, to the point that my seat quaked beneath me, and drove north.

Halfway through my frantic need to get to Edward, I realized I had no idea where he lived; all I knew was that his family had a huge house outside of Forks next to the river. So I kept driving.

For an hour, I searched through the torrent of rain for a driveway or some sort of turnoff, driving back and forth from Forks to the county line, but I could barely see past my windshield.

The emotional weight of the situation finally reached me: I may not find him. Even if I waited for him to return to school or sent a message to him through Alice, it wouldn't be soon enough. I had to confront him now, to find out what he was hiding before the magic spell wore off and I became cowardly Bella again, hiding behind my fear and refusing to speak the truth. _Edward is a vampire…maybe. _It was simple enough, but I knew with time, sanity would kick in and my nerve would dissolve.

The rain became impossible to navigate through, especially since I was sobbing like a starving infant. Without thinking, in a fit of blind desperation, I pulled my truck to the roadside, grabbed my umbrella from off the floor, and stupidly stumbled out into the downpour. I made it a few yards into the woods before I stumbled.

It was a harmless fall, but I was out of control and didn't want to stand. For the next few minutes, I told myself, I was going to let myself cry and then no more. I leaned against a tree, crouched under my umbrella, and wept.

I listened to the rain drops splatter violently against my umbrella. I sat there remembering Edward's face the first time he touched me, when he caught my arm to help me regain my balance at the end of English class the second week of school. I thought about reading Shakespeare with him and how it had felt like we were the only two people in that classroom, maybe even in the universe. I tried to forget what my life was like before I met him and realized just how far from true happiness I'd been; with Jacob I'd been content, but Edward made me feel alive. Even if Edward and I were nothing but friends for the rest of our lives, I'd take it over going back to existing without him.

Finally, I sucked in my last sob and took a deep breath, allowing the reality of the situation to hit. _If I never see him again, will I ever live down the regret of not knowing who—what he really is? _

As the thought crossed my mind, I realized it was a moot point. Standing before me, amidst the pouring rain and sodden evergreens, with his beautiful, drenched face etched with concern and confusion, stood Edward.

Courage surged through me, and my voice found its way to him through the darkness. "I needed to see you."


	25. Monster

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Monster**

"You always find me, don't you?" I asked rhetorically from my crouched position at the base of the tree. In any other frame of mind, I would have felt like a fool, barely sheltered by a flimsy nylon umbrella, lifting my face up into the steady downpour as if baptizing myself in crazed honesty. I blinked the water out of my eyes in rapid flutters, but my gaze never left Edward's.

He stood rooted to the ground ten feet away, seemingly in shock at the sight of me, though his appearance had to be deliberate; I seriously doubted he'd just been out for a stroll in the thunderstorm and stumbled across me, the girl he'd put so much effort into avoiding.

I tasted the raindrops as I ran my tongue across my lips. Even in the darkness of the stormy twilight, I could see his eyes move to my mouth, so I did it again, silently willing him to come closer.

"You weren't in school," I ventured carefully, not knowing where to start.

He wasn't moving an inch, so I slowly rose to my feet, scraping my back against the rough, wet bark of the tree trunk. I placed my palms flat against the sycamore and pushed off of them, propelling myself forward, no longer requiring anything but my own two feet for support. Even though I was terrified of what I was about to confront Edward with, I refused to meekly cower at his feet; I couldn't waste another minute of our time together allowing him to hide his true self from me.

I took a step toward him, but we were still yards apart. It was almost completely dark now, the only source of light coming in rapid, sporadic flashes from the lightening overhead and the occasional flicker of headlights from the highway two hundred feet away.

Edward continued to say nothing and stood as still and rigid as a statue, his arms frozen as they hung straight at his sides. We faced each other from afar amidst undeniable, unspoken tension, resembling two gunslingers from the Old West on the brink of a standoff.

Hoping to goad him into saying something, anything, I pressed myself to speak, asking in a hoarse, wounded voice, "Were you hiding from me?"

Finally, Edward raised his eyes to mine. Without apology, he answered, "Yes."

"Yes?" I echoed, the pain inside me causing the word to stretch out over two syllables. I was willing to hunt him down despite his potential lethalness, and he had the nerve to avoid _me._ I took another step and through gritted teeth snarled, "Don't _ever _do that to me again. Do you understand me?"

"I think it's you who doesn't understand, Bella."

I was so livid that I had to fight off the urge to spit. "No! Stop patronizing me! I know what I'm doing; it's you—you're the one who just doesn't get it." My nostrils flared, and in one forceful motion, I chucked my umbrella to the side, not wanting anything between us. "I told you that whatever it was that you were keeping from me wouldn't matter, Edward." A chill ran through me, not from the raindrops streaming down my forehead and siphoning through my eyelashes but, rather, from the thrill of saying his name amid the electricity crackling in the air.

He let out a bitter, spiteful laugh. "It will, Bella. It will absolutely matter, so much so that you'll be revolted that you ever sat inches away from me, that you ever breathed the same air as I did." He stepped backward until the distance between us measured a quarter of a football field. He raised his voice either out of pure frustration or so I could hear him over the rainfall. "The thought of me putting my hands on you to pull out from under your truck or off of a slippery dock will make you violently ill. I am exactly the kind of _person_," he scoffed to himself at the word, "whom you'll never look at again, whom you'll regret spending time with. Do you honestly believe that you know me?" He narrowed his eyes in my direction, an action I barely saw through the relentless monsoon whipping through the gap separating us. "Isabella, if you truly did see me for what I am, you'd run. Fast. Far. And you would never look back."

"You're wrong." My feet sloshed through piles of soggy leaves as I continued to close the space between us.

"I should've never allowed this. I put up an impressive façade, but I don't belong in your world, and you certainly don't belong in mine."

I repeated my mantra. "You're wrong." I kept moving away from my former haven at the base of the sycamore, toward the unknown, toward Edward.

He took two fast paces back and forth and retreated several yards, glaring at me, deceptively strong and confident.

I wanted to tell him to stop pretending, for I knew what he was: a liar, a beautiful, pessimistic liar. I wanted truth from him, so I took another step.

He sneered at me. "I can't continue this—_friendship _of ours." He spat out the word mockingly, cruel and unlike himself.

Regardless, I wouldn't let him hide. "I can't either."

Edward frowned at me, oblivious to the streams of water running down his forehead, sliding over the perfect slope of his nose. "You're going to heed my warnings?" He was trying to keep up his icy veneer, but I heard doubt creep into his voice and possibly, I prayed, sadness.

"Don't be an idiot," I cried, shouting to be heard over the intermittent claps of thunder. "I'm not letting you run away from me."

"You're a naïve child, Bella. Trust me when I say I'm danger—"

"Dangerous?" I chided, abhorring the word. "Yeah, I know. Thing is, I don't think you are. At least, not to me." Ignoring his scoff, my eyes wide and honest, I continued, "For weeks now, my life has revolved around you…sometimes I think it didn't even start until I found you. Did you know that?"

A bolt of lightening illuminated the forest, and I saw the tension release from Edward's fists. He opened his mouth only to say nothing at all.

I pushed forward, starting to approach him again but taking my time as if closing in on a wild animal. "When I didn't see you today, I felt sick. I _missed _you, like I hadn't been with you in ages. I'm tired of pretending that I'm fine leaving you behind when the bell rings everyday at three o'clock, like we're friends during school hours and strangers as soon as we're given our freedom. I need you. All the time. Every single day. So don't lie to me with this 'I'm dangerous' garbage. You're not. Not even a little bit, at least not when it comes to me."

Something finally jarred him out of speechlessness. "_Especially _when it comes to you," he barked.

Then, he started to walk, taking calculatingly unhurried steps as he turned his back to me and ignored my pleading; he'd purposefully slowed himself down so he could spew out bitter promises bathed in doubt and self-hatred. "I won't keep involving you in my world, Bella. You won't see me again. I need to leave—for both of our sakes." He stopped walking but refused to face me. "You're…a very special person. You only have to survive high school, and then the loneliness will dissipate. There are better people out there, people who deserve your friendship." He nodded decidedly to himself. The rain had soaked through the back of his white cotton shirt, giving me no choice but to strain my eyes in the darkness so I could run them over the movement of the taut muscles in his back as he exhaled.

"There are no guarantees, Edward. I'll never find another you. Never." I choked out my words without approving them first in my head. When he started walking away, faster this time, I shouted belligerently, "Ask me why I needed to see you!"

He was disappearing into the rain.

"Ask me, god damn it!"

As far as my eyes could see through the sheets of precipitation, he was gone.

But I still felt him, so I started running.

Fast, blindly, out of control.

I knew I had no hope of catching up to him, especially if what the Quileutes said was true, but if he was truly the boy—the man— I thought he was, he wouldn't leave me sobbing alone, unprotected, and lost in the shadowy wilderness.

So I kept sprinting, unable to see more than a few feet in front of me. The tree branches, the furious raindrops, the vague outline of the pine needles—all of it flashed in my peripheral vision as I pursued the only thing that could ever make me whole. It was only a matter of time before—

The ground beneath my feet suddenly sloped downward, a fact my own wild limbs were unprepared for, though my brain had hoped for such a debacle. I knew myself, my body, my luck…as I plummeted face-forward toward the saturated earth, I hoped I knew Edward just as well.

Then, as I'd prayed—knew—would happen, I lost complete contact with the ground and felt the coldness of his body press against the heat of my own.

He held me like he was the reluctant groom to my scheming bride. Edward swore under his breath but kept one arm under the crook of my knees and the other beneath my shoulders supporting my upper body weight.

As always, he searched my face for signs of pain. However, this time, instead of my dumbfounded awe or wounded confusion, he found me smirking up at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he shouted. He cycled through a dozen emotions before settling on simultaneous shock and ire. "Why are you looking at me like that, and why in the world were you racing like a banshee through the woods without any interest in preserving your own safety? I swear, Bella—"

"Don't be so naïve, Edward," I sneered condescendingly, throwing his own words from moments earlier back in his face. "That was on purpose."

Before I could stop myself, I cupped my palms gently against his face, feeling his cheekbones under the base of my fingers. He snapped his mouth shut, obviously giving up on lecturing me, and his hard expression mellowed for a single, glorious nanosecond. My pretense of cockiness vanished as I realized he was awestruck by my actions and consequently still hadn't released me. Softly, I added, "I knew you'd catch me."

He tore his eyes from me and set me down on the ground before him. "That was a mistake; it would've been better if I'd just let you fall." He bowed his head, tucking his chin against his chest so I couldn't see his face. "Believe me; you'd prefer it that way."

I splayed my hands over my brow, pushing the moisture out of my eyes, and sighed. "You're not really that stupid, are you, Edward?" The desperation in my voice and the matching anxiety written in his expression told me I'd waited too long to stop this nonsense; I needed to curb his self-mutilation and assure him that I craved rather than feared his company.

Risking it all, knowing that if I were wrong, I'd be spending Christmas in a padded cell, I gulped in the moist, late-November air and hunched over, my hands on my knees, my head pointed upward to confront his downturned face with my own hopeful expression, and thrust my fate to his mercy.

"Actually, Edward, as long as you promise not to chomp down on my neck and suck my blood, you can save me every day, for as long as I live." I'd wanted my admission to come out casually, as a light-hearted joke, but instead I'd sounded like I was asking him to marry me, fangs, bloodsucking tendencies, and all.

Edward's eyes shot wide open, his head snapped up, and he stepped back a few paces, distancing himself from my words.

I swallowed as his reaction told me I wasn't mistaken about what he truly was. I walked toward him, my hands raised slightly, palms turned open to the air as if I were a criminal surrendering to the police. "See? I told you I wouldn't care." His eyes were aghast, frightened even. I kept moving closer. "And I don't, Edward," I whispered, knowing he could hear me despite growling thunderclaps and the considerable space between us. "Not in the slightest."

I'd reached him, and we now stood less than three feet apart. "Because you see," I continued, my voice breaking, "I believe in you. I trust you. Edward, I _know _you. What you are, a human, creature of the night, or whatever…none of that matters because you're just—you're _you_. And you don't have to run from me." I felt the heat of my own tears mix with the chilled raindrops on my cheeks.

"You don't know what you're saying," he muttered, weary and broken, his head in his hands.

He staggered away from me yet again but at a speed slow enough that I could follow. We trudged in silence back to where my abandoned, open umbrella twisted in the wind near the base of the overgrown sycamore. He picked the umbrella up and fondled the grooves in the handle before tossing it in my direction.

I didn't reach for it, instead allowing it to fall back to the leafy, muddy puddle at my feet. I stared obstinately at him and refused to play the role of the weak, pitiful human.

Suddenly, without warning, Edward ripped a thick, weighty limb from the sycamore and, in a single fluid motion, snapped it into two distinct, jagged pieces. The sound echoed through the forest, causing my shoulders to quiver.

He watched my reaction carefully, likely hoping to find fear, so I clenched my jaw and stared over at him from under a furrowed brow to show him he wasn't scaring me. Daring to speak, I taunted, "You're insulting me. So you can break a tree branch like it was a twig. Is that supposed to send me off screaming into the night?"

My stubbornness seemed to infuriate him; his eyes were ablaze. In a speed my human vision couldn't appreciate, he moved so he stood in front of me, within arm's length.

"I don't frighten you?" he challenged dubiously, his scorn charging the air like an electrical current. "What I am? How I survive?"

His eyes had lost their usual soulfulness to an explosive blackness and were narrowed into slits. The harshness of his body language told me he could haul off and hit me at any second. Or worse.

But I knew he wouldn't. For weeks, he'd been sneaking small, gentle strokes of my skin with his fingertips; in the hallway, sometimes I could have sworn I wasn't the only one forcing the "accidental" brushes of our shoulders. Whenever I fell, he caught me, and each time, he didn't rush to push me out of his arms.

"So you're a vampire," I eked out the word quickly with as much nonchalance as I could muster, "but you're still Edward."

"What I am is a monster," he growled, his lips half a foot from my forehead. I struggled not to flinch at the hostility flashing in his eyes.

"Don't say that," I sobbed, shaking my head as if the movement would somehow silence him into submission. "If you're a monster, then what does that make me? Me, someone who lived her entire life in loneliness until she met this great, sweet boy who stood by her through homesickness, near-death experiences, and some rather intense self-doubt. Someone who tried desperately to love that boy back as much as he loved her. Someone who thought she was doing a pretty damn good job until she met this other boy, who seemed to hate her but who eventually just filled all the voids in her life that she didn't even know existed."

Hypnotized by Edward's proximity, I reached for the umbrella, lifted it over my head, and stepped closer to him, sheltering us both under a canopy of thin, black nylon. I could smell the sweetness of his scent wafting around me in the moist air. I shivered in silence, gathering my strength as he took in my words.

Seeing him hate himself with such unabashed intensity made my heart leap for his peace of mind. More than anything, I wanted to make it better, to make him feel like he'd made me feel, to warm him and love him until we just forgot about our responsibilities and the roles life told us we were supposed to play.

I fought the tears, the guilt, and the knowledge of what I was about to do. Breathing in the heady air between us, I continued, "If you're a monster, Edward, then I'm something much, much worse." The sweet innocence of Jacob's face flashed once through my head before I pushed it aside completely. "Because I have a choice—a choice between being a monster and protecting the person who loves me more than anything in the world. And I choose to be the monster."

Edward shook his head, not understanding what I was trying to tell him. He looked like he was on the verge of bolting, that is if he could bear to remove his stare from my face. I was banking on the magnetic pull between us to keep him still.

I bit my lip and, before I could stop myself, grabbed both sides of his beautiful, confused face. "I choose you, Edward. I can't walk away from this, from you. I told you once that I wasn't looking for anything between us beyond friendship, but I—I'm a liar. This—you and me—was _never_ about friendship. So if you're a monster, then so am I because I'm giving up everything to tell you—" I stood on the very tips of my toes to stare him straight in the eye—"to tell you that I'm in love with you."

My hands still fondled the arctic, alabaster skin covering his cheekbones, and I could practically feel him blink twice, his expression a mixture of horror, awe, and doubt. Before I could assess his reaction further, he placed his palms around my wrists and gripped them for a fraction of a second before his hands were gone and his face disappeared from under my fingertips. I spun around, hoping for some clue as to where he'd gone, but I found none.

The rain weakened to a drizzle, and I dropped the umbrella to my feet without bothering to close it. I stared through the darkness at the mud caking my shoes and balled my hands into fists in a futile attempt to isolate the tension threatening to wrack every cell in my body.

"Edward?" I asked shakily into the vast emptiness surrounding me, drawing on a stockpile of audacity I didn't even know I had. "Edward, I need you to come back. Talk to me, please."

A minute later, there was still no sign of him, so I spoke again, this time in a strained, desperate yell. "Edward, if you don't come back here—" I broke off, knowing I had nothing to threaten him with. Instead, I went with all I did have, my newfound honesty, and wailed, "Don't you dare make me into a fool! I can love a vampire, but I could never love a coward!" The ridiculousness of what I was saying was only compounded by the maniacal, screeching tone of my voice.

I sunk to my knees and felt the cold, wet soil seep through my jeans. I couldn't even cry; I was completely empty. My hands gripped my face, as if I could pull out the pain through my eye sockets.

"One hundred thirty-seven."

His voice, frigid and adamant, rang through the small clearing where I hunched in defeat. I didn't bother to lift my head; his heartless tone told me everything I needed to know, even if the meaning underlying his words was a total mystery to me.

"One hundred four."

My vision was utterly useless, but I knew he was nowhere close to me.

Still, I could feel him.

"Eighty-seven."

I jerked my hands from my face to my thighs, hard and fast so my palms made a loud, slapping sound as they flattened against the sopping denim of my jeans. Into the blackness, I asked emptily, sardonically, "Are we playing some warped, twisted version of Hide and Go Seek?"

Rising to my feet, I turned in a circle, still not seeing him. "I won't find you, Edward. I can't keep up with your spineless mind games."

In the aftermath of the recently abated thunderstorm, a flash of lightening lit up my surroundings.

He was there.

Walking toward me soundlessly, effortlessly dodging tree branches and puddles of rainwater, he was everything but cowardly. His eyes were more intense than I'd ever seen them. His face was detached but still precious to me, his aloofness unable to overshadow the beauty of the soul I knew lurked beneath the surface. He strode toward me with slow, determined steps, his body soaking wet, his expression lacking a single ounce of vulnerability.

"Zero."

I swallowed hard and mercilessly gripped my hands together in front of me. Edward wouldn't kill me, that I knew without question, but I was fairly certain he was about to break my heart.

He stopped three paces in front of me. I could see him without the aid of lightening bolts now.

"Those numbers, Bella…you should memorize them." He was so close; all it would take was one step and an extension of my arm for us to touch again…but the resolute expression shadowing his features told me I was forbidden from crossing the invisible barrier between us.

He bent his head so his words had less distance to travel before they slapped me in the face. "One hundred thirty-seven. That's how many people I've murdered in cold blood, following them into dark alleys, snapping their necks without even looking them in the eye, draining the life out of them within minutes before mutilating their cold, dead corpses so the truth behind their unnatural, inhumane deaths would never come into fruition."

He wanted me to back away, to run, to never look into his eyes ever again. But that was impossible. So I kept boring my gaze into his lifeless, unfeeling face.

His expression flickered, and he licked his lips, his mouth parting slightly so I could see the abnormal whiteness of his teeth. "One hundred four. That's how old I truly am. Old enough to be your great-great-grandfather, and old enough to have seen every human I've ever met die and fade from my memory to the point where all I can recall of them is fragmented pieces of the lives they once lived. My mother, my father…I can barely see their faces in my own mind. I forgot them…just like I'll forget you."

I choked on the lump rising in my throat. My head was shaking without me telling it to, physical evidence of my disbelief that this was Edward standing in front of me, that somehow a heartless stranger had stolen his face.

He took a single step forward, and I could smell a mixture of the humidity and his scent as it drifted down upon my face. "Eighty-seven. That's how many years ago I ceased being a human being and became the disgusting, soulless monster you see in front of you now. I was seventeen years old, on the brink of death, and I was bitten. Then, suddenly, I stopped craving food and oxygen and sleep. All I could think about was the scent of human blood, the sweetness of its smell, its warmth as it slid down my throat. I gave it up for awhile," he flashed me a sickening, un-Edward-like leer, "but then I met you, Bella. I hadn't tasted human blood for the better part of seventy years when I first saw you, but the minute I got a whiff of you—the most tempting thing I've ever encountered—all I could think about what you'd taste like and how I could steal you away so I could literally suck the life out of you."

"Enough!" I glared at him with unbridled fury. "You are not a monster, and your scary stories don't stop me from loving you." I leaned in, narrowing the space between us to mere inches. "If you want to kill me, then go ahead."

I ripped my jacket from my shoulders and flung it to the ground, causing it to splatter droplets of water onto the hem of my jeans. Never taking my eyes from Edward's, I hooked my index finger into the collar of my turtleneck and pulled the wool fabric as far as it would go, away from my neck. Without a single inkling of trepidation, I leaned in even further, my jugular so close to his face that I could feel the coolness of his breath against my exposed skin. "What are you waiting for?" I whispered.

In a blur, he was gone again.

"You've had so many chances, Edward!" I cried, not knowing where to aim my voice. "I could have been dead a hundred times over, what with all the time we've spent together. But, instead, you've saved my life. Twice officially, but really in so many ways that I can't even keep count. You made me see how I was suffocating in this place, how I deserve more. You showed me that I was missing something in my life—you, Edward, I was missing _you_. What I feel for you is unlike anything I ever thought possible…I-I think about you. All the time. You and me—we're not safe; this thing between us _is_ dangerous, but only because we'd both have to take an enormous risk to be together. But it's worth it." I gasped for air, searching the blackness for a trace of his presence. Seeing nothing, I kept babbling, praying I could say something that would bring him back to me. "You make me so happy; I never feel lonely when I'm with you, or like I'm losing out on something else, something better. You're just _it_ for me. You—we— we're magic, even if you are a monster, even if I am, too. I choose the magic, Edward. I choose us. Because we're better together than anything I've ever known and anything I will ever find."

"Zero."

Coming from nowhere, he now hovered over me, standing close behind me so that I felt his arm brush against mine when my chest heaved as I took in a deep breath.

He leaned his head in just over my shoulder. In my ear, he repeated the number in a hiss. "Zero. The number of women I've loved in all one hundred four years of my existence. The number of women I've kissed. The number of times I've allowed myself to carry on the illusion of a relationship with anyone." His hands were suddenly gripping my shoulders, and his face was so close my eyelashes could almost flutter against his chin. "Zero. The number of minutes I'll spend feeling anything aside from blood-thirst for you."

"I don't…believe you," I sputtered. My head told me I was lying, that he was telling the truth, but my heart assured me my words were honest. "You go out of your way, to the point of exposing the secret of what you are, to protect me. You watch my every move. You look at me like there's something you want to tell me but just can't. You believe in me so much that, despite my nonexistent self-esteem, even _I _believe you when you tell me that I'm worth something. You left me a pumpkin on my front porch after I smashed the other one to pieces. You make me into a better person. And you feel something for me, too. I know you do."

His eyes narrowed as I started to weep soundlessly. "I don't, Bella. You have to know that."

"No."

Edward released my shoulders but didn't back off. "Bella," he whispered my name as if it belonged to a sacred deity, "you can't possibly feel that for me. You don't know anything about me."

I grimaced, refusing to let him look anywhere but into my eyes. "You know that's a lie. There are a million things about this world that I can't even begin to understand, but I have absolutely no doubt that I _know_ you."

"I've killed—"

"I don't care. You're a murderer. You even want to murder me, but I still love you. Somehow. Even if I don't _want_ to love you, I just do." I sniffled. "I can't help it. I'd rather die than stay away from you."

Ignoring me completely, he went on with his exercise in self-loathing. "I didn't even know most of their names. I just executed them. In cold blood. Don't tell me—"

"_Stop!_" I knew myself well enough to know that I could never feel the way I did about Edward if he was as awful as he claimed to be. "You want to talk about them? Your _victims_? Tell me about them, then. Were they nuns? Small children? Puppies? Please, Edward. Tell me how awful you really are."

"They were human beings, for Christ's sake. How can you not take this seriously?"

He was unraveling. I could feel it. "How old were they, Edward? Why did you kill them? And don't lie to me. Don't make me feel repulsive for falling for a cold-blooded killer; don't make me feel ashamed of myself for caring about you. If you're the monster you say you are, then that makes me pretty terrible, too, doesn't it?"

His face convulsed, revealing a flash of helplessness, and he snapped his eyelids closed. "They were rapists, murderers. I knew because I can read people's thoughts. I knew what they were thinking, each and every disgusting thought. I followed them. Then I slaughtered them. But that doesn't excuse what I did. I'm still a killer. I'm still repulsive."

I wanted to throw my arms around him, but he still looked tortured and unapproachable.

And then the entirety of his message knocked the wind out of me. "_You can read people's thoughts_?"

He stared out over my head. "Everyone's," he replied flatly. "Except yours."

"Why—"

"I don't know." Keeping his eyes shut, he turned his head away from me.

"Can all vampires do that?" Our conversation was surreal but also easily the bravest moment of my life.

"No. Just me." He still wouldn't look at me..

I'd always maintained that Edward was the most fascinating person, I'd ever met, but clearly that was the understatement of the century. Awed, I murmured, "You're…incredible."

Edward turned back to me, animosity written all over his face. "When you were in the hospital last weekend, all your Jacob could think about was how much he loved you, how he'd never be able to cope with losing you. He watched you sleeping, even after you thought he'd gone. When he finally he left, he only did so because he could no longer hold himself together; he starting crying in the parking lot because he thought you weren't in love with him. He would do anything for you, Bella, and you're throwing him away."

"You're not playing fair," I wept. "He is amazing, and until I met you—"

"He made you happy, didn't he?" Edward's tone was fierce; he was trying to prove a point, to push me away.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve, I sighed, "Not like you do."

Edward closed his eyes again, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. "He can give you the life you were meant to have, Bella." He opened his eyes, and for the first time, he let me see his pain. "I don't age. I don't eat or sleep or do any of the things you do. I could crack your skull with a simple, effortless flick of my finger, let alone what I would be capable of if I touched you when…if I were in a situation where I couldn't control myself."

I blushed, which was not the effect he desired. "You could touch me, Edward. You _can _touch me." I hung my hands at my sides, hoping he'd reach out and take them. "You do it all the time. At school, you touch my fingers, my shoulders, once or twice you reached out and touched my face—"

"That's different."

"How?"

He pressed his fingers against his forehead. "That was a mistake. A massively stupid mistake."

"Please don't say that," I whispered.

"Jacob can touch you. He can kiss you. He can give you a normal life, a life without monsters. You belong with him. He's safe choice. Bella, Jacob is the right choice for you; he's what your life was meant to be."

"No! You don't get to say his name," I sputtered. "This has nothing to do with him; this is about me and you. I love him, but I am _in _love with you. Just you. And I don't want a normal life—the thought of promising myself to anyone but you makes me feel claustrophobic. But you, Edward, you make me feel as if I could do anything, go anywhere and have an incredible life, as long as you're with me. With you, I'd be free."

"No, with me, you'd be dead. It would only be a matter of time before I'd destroy you…I'd lose control and eventually crush your skull into dust."

"You'd never let that happen."

"You don't—"

"Yes, I do. I know you'd never hurt me, not accidentally and not purposefully." I moved as close as I could get without pressing my chest against his. My head was directly under his chin. Straining my neck, I looked up at him, not surprised that he hadn't forced himself away from me. "You want me, too, Edward. Maybe just as bad I as I want you." I fluttered my eyelids shut and tipped my face so all he had to do was lean in. "Kiss me. I know you can. I know you want to."

Maybe it was because I was intoxicated by his very presence and thus incapable of rational thought, but I was so sure he'd give in and press his lips to mine, certain that he'd let me in.

I was horrifically wrong.

I waited, but he never touched me. Humiliated, I opened my eyes to see he'd backed away, his features had hardened, the gentleness I'd fallen in love with now dead and buried.

"You claim to know me, Bella." He derided my faith with a scoff. "And I haven't the slightest idea how you figured out what I am, but surely I can tell you a bit of information you haven't picked up on when it comes to vampires: we are fickle, easily distracted creatures. I admit, I once found you intriguing, seeing as you're the only person I've ever encountered whose mind I can't understand. In fact, for a human, you are quite exceptional. However," he strolled over to the tree limb he'd broken and appraised his handiwork with a smirk, "my attention is waning. It's not you at all; it's just the way I am. I can't pretend to live as a human at your side—such a task would be tiresome and eventually I would leave you. This is what's best, really."

I sucked in a shallow intake of air and mentally stumbled over his words, trying to decipher their meaning. His eyes, framed by the icy planes of his face, stared down at me with indifferent patience, as if I were a child obstructing his path, not getting out of his way fast enough. Slowly, I began to understand.

"You…don't…want me?" The words didn't sound right on my lips.

"No."

"Oh." I sunk back onto the ground, barely hearing the squishing sound the mud made under my weight.

"I wish this could be easier, Bella. I really do." He seemed sincere, but I really had no idea how to interpret anything he said or did; my assumptions thus far had been abysmally off base.

He had the nerve to crouch down before me. He looked cautious but still, more than anything, he looked like an arrogant, unmitigated asshole. "I know I have no right to ask this, but please do take care of yourself. I'd hate to think all my altruistic efforts to keep you alive were done in vain."

I wanted to cry until I'd expunged every drop of moisture in my body, but I forced myself to hold it together, showing him only anger. "I'll be just fine," I snarled.

"Yes, of course you will." He nodded, back to his earlier trick of not meeting my eyes. "Nonetheless, I want you to know that I will no longer attend classes. You won't have to see me ever again."

My heart rose to my throat. Still, I couldn't believe his audacity. "Oh, because I'm the poor little lovesick human girl who can't handle seeing you in the hallway? Don't flatter yourself. I could look at you every minute of every day, and I will never see you the same way." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "You're not who I thought you were. So don't worry, you don't have to run away for my sake. The person I thought I was in love with doesn't exist. Seeing you every single day won't change that."

My hands were shaking, so I jammed them into my back pockets so he couldn't see just how much he'd broken me.

A flicker of...something flashed across his face before the arrogance returned in full force. "Very well, Bella. I won't alter my plans because of you, and I hope you have some reassurance in knowing that I will no longer bother you with my attention."

Numbly, I blinked out into the night. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand and back up until the blackness dissolved him from sight.

He didn't want me.

Of course he didn't.

I was a fool.

So I cried, never stopping, even as I forced my legs to support me and carry me through the brush toward the spot where my truck was parked along the highway. I laid down in the seat, curled in the fetal position, soaking the upholstery, raking my fingernails along the coarse fabric until I had no feeling left in my fingertips.

He didn't want me.

Still, despite my empty, cold words to the contrary, I wanted him. Regardless of everything he'd said. And I hated myself for it.

I welcomed the crazed masochism welling up inside me. I prayed it would replace the hole Edward's rejection had left in the very center of my heart.

As it stood, I felt like I wasn't hurting myself enough; I deserved worse, but no matter what thoughts I tortured myself with, nothing could eclipse the intense anguish Edward had just caused me.

Like an unstable teenager in need of razors to slice the skin of her forearms in order to dull the pain inside her, I craved some way to mutilate myself; only, I looked for an emotional release instead of a physical one. I was sick, hating myself to the point that I had to practically force myself to breathe.

But before I could continue beating myself up for what I'd allowed myself to feel for Edward, before I could wallow in self-pity and depression, I knew what I had to do.

Jacob.

I had to let him go.

Through the tears and nervous twitching of my muscles, I started my truck and headed to La Push.

I was a sinking ship of pain and self-loathing…but I refused to let Jake drown alongside me.


	26. Over

**Chapter Twenty-Six Notes: **So, I didn't get tarred and feathered after the last chapter, which tells me (1) you guys are awesome and (2) people actually dig some serious, heart-wrenching pain once in a while. That bodes well for this chapter, which is another angst-fest, though nowhere near as good as the last chapter.

The angsty song I listened to while drafting this chapter: "Goodbye to the Mother and the Cove" by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. It is just so fantastically hypnotic, even if the lyrics aren't really relevant to my plot.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Over**

It was well past eleven when my truck's tires crunched against the gravel in Jacob's driveway. The rain had subsided to a docile mist, but my grief had grown, forcing the tears to well up in my eyes with such haste that I barely noticed the change in the rainfall.

I sat in the cab of my truck for a solid ten minutes replaying in my head the horror of what I had just done. I'd been more honest with Edward than I'd ever been with anyone, even with myself in my own thoughts. I'd been fearless, saying exactly what I felt in my heart because I thought he needed to hear it, that he needed me. I'd told myself I could be strong for us both, that I could believe in him so he could believe in us. I'd deflected every lie he'd sent my way because I thought he was trying to push me away because he was scared, scared that I'd be repulsed by him or scared of just of loving someone, maybe for the first time in his life. I'd been scared, too, but I pushed ahead because I was more terrified that I'd stumble through life always wondering if something as great as him and me could ever really exist. So, alone in the wilderness, I'd admitted to a vampire, a self-confessed murderer who craved the blood coursing through my veins, that I was in love with him. In response, Edward stopped telling me lies to frighten me away and instead told me the simple, inevitable truth: he didn't want me.

He'd told me before, the day we'd gone over my Dartmouth essay in the cafeteria, that he had loved someone. Once. With uncharacteristic hope, or maybe it was irrational arrogance, I thought for a second that the girl he'd spoken of was me. Apparently, who ever she was, he didn't really care for her at all. Or maybe he'd made her up. Or maybe, just maybe, she really was me, but whatever he'd initially felt with his fleeting, fickle vampire emotions was over now. All I really knew was that he didn't want anything of mine except maybe my blood but certainly not my heart or my company. I was a human, and though he couldn't read my mind like he could everyone else's, that intrigue just wasn't enough. I was plain. I was boring. I couldn't possibly hold his interest. Over the months we'd spent building what we disceptively called a friendship, he'd unknowlingly made me brave and confident and appreciative of how the traits that made me different also made me special. Then, suddenly, he'd turned me away and shattered everything he'd taught me to love about myself.

And now I was about to do the same to Jacob.

His window was dark, a black void against the red siding of the small house that would soon stop serving as my second home. Not wanting to wake Billy, I tapped gingerly against the glass.

There was no answer. Part of me wanted to take that as a sign; I could easily turn away and keep the one constant in my life—I certainly needed Jake in order to hold onto whatever shred of sanity I had left. He'd been the light of my life in Forks ever since I first arrived here, bitter about the lack of sun and completely alone. Within days of meeting, we'd become best friends…and that was the problem. I'd never really progressed past friendship with Jake. I'd told myself that I had, not even realizing what a stretch it was to see Jake as a romantic partner, to kiss him and imagine that there was passion underlying the sense of comfort I felt whenever I was with him. Sometimes, he'd try to slide into third base, and I'd swat him away, telling myself it was because I had no experience with boys and that I was just nervous. He'd been patient and assured me we could wait until I was ready. The thing was, I was ready, just not for him.

It was Edward who made me see that it wasn't my sexual naivety that made me shy away from Jake's touch; tonight, standing in a downpour, leaning into Edward as I begged him to kiss me, I realized that if he'd pushed me up against the rough bark of a tree and tore at my clothes, I would only want more from him, anything and everything he could possibly give me. At that point, the second that thought passed through my head, I knew I didn't deserve Jacob. No longer could I justify holding onto Jacob for his sake, to protect him from loneliness and rejection; he needed someone who could give him anything he wanted. That someone…she certainly wasn't me, as I'd just given part of myself away to a boy who didn't want me in return, a part of me I couldn't get back that now belonged to Edward.

I shuddered as I began to fully understand what my life had become: I loved Edward, who tolerated me only as a novelty, while the person who loved me unconditionally would now continue on without me, alone himself because my stubborn, foolish heart refused to love him like he ought to be loved.

I banged harder against the glass. A light snapped on, and he appeared, worriedly appraising me through horizontal slits in the blinds. As evidence of just how awful I must have looked, Jake impulsively slid aside the glass, unhitched the screen from its track, and climbed through the frame so he could be at my side instantly.

"Bells! What the hell? You're sopping wet!" I realized then that along with my heart and emotional well-being, I'd also left my jacket in the forest. Fervently, Jacob ran his hands up and down my arms, trying to create heat through friction. He had no way of knowing I was numb and thus immune to both the cold and his frantic efforts to warm me.

For what I knew could very well be the last time, I threw my arms around his neck. The effort the action took was foreign to me; he'd grown so tall that I had to stand on my toes and stretch my arms to their limit, to the point where he didn't feel like my Jacob anymore. I buried my face in his shoulder, wanting to cry and demand he tell me everything would be okay…except that it wouldn't be, and of all people, I couldn't ask Jake to assure me otherwise.

I curled my fingers around the sharpness of his shoulder blades. Keeping my mouth against the warm cotton of his t-shirt, I eked out the devastating words I'd been holding inside for far too long. The sound was muffled and my voice was hoarse from my devastating altercation with Edward less than an hour earlier, but I knew Jake could hear me. "I can't do this anymore."

He gently gripped at my shoulders and pulled me back so he could study me. "Do what?" His breathing was ragged and his eyes were pleading, which told me he probably already knew the answer to his question. We'd done our best to ignore it, but our downfall had been building for weeks.

"This, Jake. You and me. I—I'm so sorry." I was crying, even though I'd sworn I wouldn't; I didn't have the right.

He continued to stare at me like I was speaking in tongues.

I cupped his cheek with my hand. "I love you. So, so much." I removed my palm from his skin, fisted it, and brought it to my forehead, closing my eyes as I continued, "But not the way I should."

Jake bore his eyes into mine with innocent but brazen intensity. "Are you break—You're not—you can't do this, Bells. You can't. It just…doesn't make any sense for us not to be together. You—you're not making any sense." His phrasing was desperate, spoken so quickly each set of words overlapped.

"I know." I couldn't even look at him. "We should make perfect sense together, but somehow…something's just missing." The last of my words was toxic, hanging in the air like a poisonous gas.

"No! No—nothing's missing! We belong together. You, me, us. That's all there is. I don't know anything that's not you, and I don't want to." He bent his face down to mine, searching my eyes for some remnant of reason. I was dreading the moment he'd realize he wouldn't find any; his Bella was gone…maybe she never really existed at all, at least not in the incarnation he wanted.

"I can't give you what you want, Jake. I can't love you like you need to be loved. If you think about it, really think about it for a second, you'll see that."

"You don't have to give me anything! What I want, Bella, is what you are. If you're sad, I want you. If you're angry, I want you. If you're broken, I want you. And you want me, too. You've just been through hell lately, that's all. I mean, hitting your head—"

"This isn't about a head injury. It's about me. I-I'm a mess, and I c-can't make you happy."

"Shhh," he whispered, moving to pull me into an embrace. I backed up a step, and the distance made his face fall. "You do make me happy, I swear you do."

Too absorbed in his sweet, adolescent denial, he was going to make me say it. "I think," I gnawed on my bottom lip, hoping to taste blood so I could feel something. "I think we can both be happier, Jake. I think that—that there's something more out there." There was—for him; I was almost certain of it. For me, however, there was nothing left; only one person could fill up my emptiness, but he found me wholly unworthy of his attention, let alone his love. And, in light of what I was doing to Jake, I probably was.

Jacob was wounded, then still, and finally incensed. His upper body tensed as he roared, "So this is about him—Cullen—you want him. Instead of me."

Superficially, he was right. I didn't want it to be true, to love a cold, arrogant yet self-loathing jerk rather than my unfailingly kind-hearted best friend, but it was. Nevertheless, in the greater scheme of things, regardless of whether Edward loved me back, he'd taught me what love really felt like, the passionate kind that made me gladly abandon common sense and think with my heart instead of my head. Before he'd crushed me into irreconcilable pieces, Edward showed me what I was missing, and I now knew it was something I couldn't force, no matter how badly I wanted to. The odds were that I would never feel it again, but Jake could, and maybe, if fate was just and merciful, he'd fare better than I had.

I could only offer Jake the truth, though I still would do whatever I could to protect him from the hellish rejection I was feeling. "It's not about him, not really. I was right, about what I told you in the hospital. Do you remember?"

Sounding much like a wounded animal, he granted me a guttural response telling me he did.

I struggled to keep my voice even. "I was telling the truth." And I had been, even though I'd secretly, subconsciously hoped Edward would prove me wrong. "He and I will never be…anything. This—what I'm doing—is because I don't love you like you think you love me."

"Knock it off." He spoke quietly, in a small voice that made my heart compress with guilt. "Don't make me feel like I don't love you, because I do. Don't downplay what I feel for you. You can't talk your way out of that, Bella. Even if—" he sucked in a breath, teetering on the edge of letting the impending loss consume him. "Even if you…don't love me back, I will always love you."

"I know you love me, Jake, I do." I choked a bit as I spoke, my lips trembling against my gums as I forced out the words I needed to say to get through to him. "But if I was the girl meant for you, I wouldn't be doing this; I wouldn't be able to say these things, to hurt you like this." He winced, and my throat was so dry I felt like I was being strangled. Still, I kept on. "I love you, you have to know that…but in a different way. Not the way that makes me want to keep you to myself and not share you. Somewhere out there, there's someone who won't let anyone come between her and you; you deserve that, her. And I—I can't be her. God, though I really want to be her, I'm just…not." I felt ill. My stomach twisted to the point that I had to bend slightly at the waist to ward off the urge to dry heave.

Jake was in some sort of shock. He walked back and forth without speaking or glancing in my direction. He clenched his fists and then released them, patting his trembling hands against his sides in jerky, rhythmless motions. He blinked furiously before touching his fingers to his eyelids, discovering the tears that had only just begun to flow freely. Finally, his entire face crumbled, and despite his sudden growth spurts and the hardened features that had chiseled his once familiar face, he was a boy again, the one I'd loved on the porch of the little red house in La Push who taught me how to change a tire, appreciate Tom Petty, and recognize the growl of a truly fearsome V-8 engine.

Until recently, everything I'd discovered, every place I'd visited, and every person I'd met since moving here was inseparable from him. We'd kissed more times than I could remember in the garage out back. Every inch of Charlie's kitchen had Jake written all over it, from the table where we'd sit and play fearsomely competitive games of Rummy to the counter where he'd sit and tell me hilariously unfunny knock-knock jokes while I cooked him dinner. Every year, on the anniversary of his mother's death, we walked hand in hand to the cemetery and scattered fresh daisies under the engraved stone that bore her name. His friends were my family, his home was my home, and his world for so long had been me in return. Jake's warmth and sincerity shaped the person I'd grown into since arriving in Washington at 14, insecure, scared, and alone. He'd been my life, and without realizing it, I'd allowed that to change. I'd taken the best pieces of our lives and thrown them out based on a sick, one-sided love that now brought me only grief and never joy. Edward's rejection had left me fragile and broken, a former shell of the person I was only learning to become, and a piece of me didn't want to let Jake go out of my dwindling sense of self-preservation, but my selfishness had made me into someone who wasn't worthy of him. I barely had any strength left, but I'd use the small bits of courage left inside me to push him far from the debris of my imminent collapse.

Jake kept sobbing, his body twitching with each sharp intake of breath. He sunk to the muddy earth, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his forehead against his kneecaps, a position reminding me of the one I'd found myself in earlier in the forest…and I knew that made me Edward in this situation. The parallel made me physically gag; my shoulders slumped as my stomach lurched.

I rocked back on my heels, barely able to stand. I may have been crying harder than Jake was, but my tear ducts were somehow disconnected from my heart, as my insides only felt deadness. Tendrils of my hair clung to my face, dripping filthy rainwater into my eyes. I hardly noticed.

"Why?" He croaked out the question, his head still against his knees. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "I wish I wasn't. I wish I was better for you. But I can't see myself in this life anymore. I want La Push to be my home, and for you to belong with me, but it doesn't feel right. I can't explain it. Sorry—I'm so very sorry."

"I don't know how to get past this."

"Me either," I croaked, knowing that there was a chance I might never really move on. I'd lost Jake, and I never had Edward. The fact that the latter cut deeper than the former told me just how heartless I truly was.

At long last, he raised his head and glared at me with bloodshot, swollen eyes. In a distraught whisper, he said, "You did this. You pushed me away. You don't appreciate how special we were." He wiped his nose against the back of his hand. "I wanted to marry you."

My chest constricted in a muted but distinct panic at that last sentence, telling me that even though I felt like I was flat-lining, what I was doing was really my only option. "Like you said, Jake, I'm all you've ever known. You can't possibly mean that. Look at what I'm doing to you. Do you see what a huge mistake we would have made if we'd gotten married and then one of us discovered what we felt for each other was, in the end, just a really intense, beautiful friendship? We aren't in love with each other, Jake! Maybe we thought we were, but I think that—"

"Speak for yourself. I would have done anything for you." His face was tight, but his tears were unrelenting. "Anything."

I wasn't deaf to the fact he spoke in past tense. I had it coming, but it still hurt like hell. I kept nodding, wanting him to shower me with expletives and threats that he fully intended to carry out. I wanted to feel all the pain I was causing him, to somehow mutilate myself further, yet he silenced himself, keeping his demons buried inside.

Eventually, he stood. He kept his head bowed downward to his feet and said, "I can't look at you right now."

I pretended like I wasn't crying, though the shaking quality of my voice betrayed me. "I know. I'm so sorry." I should have said a million more apologies or tried to explain that I was trying to save him from falling into the black hole that was my future, but I was empty. All my words—the pleading, the vacant reassurances, the careful explanations—none of them carried the weight of what I was feeling. There was no concise, tidy way to cut your only true friend out of your life. He wanted more, and selfishly, I just wanted his platonic devotion. I couldn't force a common ground upon us because it simply didn't exist.

With all he had left, he stifled out his parting words. "You need to go."

I nodded once more and stumbled into the darkness toward the driveway. For one final, devastating moment, I turned back to look at him. His back was to me, curled into a crescent shape as his arms wound tightly around his body. I'd never seen him so wrecked, and though I hadn't thought it was possible, I died a little more knowing that he had been broken by my own callous hand.

Though incoherent, I still somehow managed to reach my truck. Seeing it only made me think of Jake, who had taken pristine care of it over the years until he eventually passed it over to me. Now, it served as one more reminder why he was so much better than what I had become.

Once I backed out of the driveway, I shut down. I couldn't cry. I couldn't feel. I just drove, watching the road in a trance.

X X X

Miraculously, I somehow reached home, my brain still on autopilot. Charlie was waiting for me. The second I opened the door, he was there, popping up from his recliner, crossing our poor excuse for a foyer, and cutting off my path to the stairs.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" He was livid, but he had yet to see my face. "It's a school night, Bella, and—"

He broke off as he finally really looked at me. His expression softened before his brow creased with worry, watching me like I was still his little girl with skinned knees and a tear-stained face. I loved him to death, but Charlie had no way of knowing this was so much worse than a seven-year-old falling off her bicycle.

"Bells, are you alright?"

"Jake and I broke up." The emotionless, stilted voice coming out of my mouth wasn't my own.

Charlie didn't know what to do with himself. A bit awkwardly, he moved to hug me, and he looked nervous that I might either burst into tears or attack him in a fit of teenage hormonal rage. Instead, I just backed away until the back of my calves hit the first step of the staircase. I gripped the railing for support but refused to allow my face to be anything but vacant.

"I need to sleep," I lied, not lifting my gaze from the floorboards.

"Of course," he muttered brusquely. He reached out and slowly patted my back, opting for physical action over discomfited words as a means of comforting me. "If you need anything—"

"I won't."

I crawled up the stairs before he could think of anything else to say. I reached my bed without really seeing or even feeling it and laid down, not bothering to take off my sodden, muddy clothing.

After an hour or so of staring at the bumpy stretch of popcorn ceiling above my bed, I closed my eyes, but, for what my heart told me was an eternity, I never really fell asleep. Sometimes, I would drift out of consciousness, but before I could truly hope to reach actual slumber, my body would jerk, and I would open my eyes with a start. Through it all, I was just…numb. I knew I should be crying or at least thinking about what I had just done, but I couldn't. It wasn't yet real to me, which made sense because I'd never been someone who was capable of the irrational bravery I'd forced myself to put forth in the forest with Edward nor the unapologetic cruelty I'd shown to Jake in the very spot we'd had our first kiss all those months ago.

I remained in my purgatorial state of numbness for what could have been hours. Somehow, after a countless number of false starts, my body forced itself into an uneasy slumber around dawn. When I woke up again, my neck was nothing more than a series of throbbing knots, and the shadows in my bedroom were all wrong. I looked at my alarm clock for confirmation: It was three forty-eight in the afternoon. Instead of risking witnessing my nervous breakdown firsthand, Charlie let me skip school. When I flopped my head on its side, I saw he'd made me breakfast hours earlier; on my nightstand sat cold, brittle strips of bacon and eggs that were congealed into a soggy, yellow mound against the pale blue ceramic of my parents' dated wedding china.

My body felt grimy underneath my muddied, day-old t-shirt. I supposed I should have felt the urge to shower, but I couldn't move. So, instead, I returned to my mindless study of the ceiling, welcoming the filth of yesterday's clothing like a second skin.

That went on for what could have either been minutes or hours…until I heard the branches of the tree outside my window create hollow scraping sounds as they brushed against the aluminum siding.

Finally, for the first time since the sun had risen under the shadow of dismal, precipitation-laden clouds, I shifted my eyes to the side away from the powdery white bumps above me to the window. Small but determined hands pushed it open.

"What do you want, Alice?"

She leaned casually against the window frame as if this was a routine she performed on a daily basis. "You weren't in class today, Bella. What gives?"

I didn't have the energy to scoff at her. Dully, I responded, "What do you think." It wasn't a question, as both of us already knew the answer.

She rose from the windowsill and plopped down at the foot of the bed. "Given what he did to you?" Her face fell at her own words. "He's not worth it."

I wasn't ready to talk about this—about him.

I wanted to conjure up tears or at least a shaken voice, but I wasn't capable of anything beyond a tearless monotone. My eyes moved robotically back to the expanse of space above my head; I noticed water spots on the dankly lit patch of plaster above my head. "Tell me something I don't know."

"I can tell the future, for real." Alice was simultaneously eager and apprehensive.

"The Cullens and their superpowers," I mused, trying to muster up surprise, though nothing could really catch me off guard anymore. Instead, my tone was dead or, at best, cynical. "Fortune telling. Mind reading. I get that you guys are pretty spectacular."

She didn't concern herself with my use of sarcasm where I should have spoken with shock. "Some of us have special abilities, but we've each just got one, unique to each of us. I can tell parts of the future, but I can't read your mind. Only Edward can do that."

"Don't." My heart stopped. "Don't ever say that—name to me." I was a melodramatic wreck of a human being, but I honestly couldn't bear the sound of anything related to him. "He rejected me, Alice. You don't need psychic premonitions to tell you that. He hurt me to the point where I'm questioning everything about—"

Before I could keep talking, her hand was against my mouth, silencing me. It was cold, and I'd never consciously made the connection before, though I should have, but now I knew for certain that she was just like him. "So you're…"

"A vampire, yes." She ran her fingers against the raised patterns on my quilt before examining my face. "Does that bother you?"

The previous day she'd told me that I wouldn't care once I discovered the secret, and she was right, so I now questioned her lack of confidence. I could only think of one source for her suddenly dubious resolve. Weak, detached, I asked, "Did he tell you that it would?"

"He hardly told me anything. I only saw what you'd say, and even then, I only saw bits and pieces." She was quiet and clearly upset. "That's kind of how it works for me."

I wanted to bestow upon her my best sarcastic laugh, but I still didn't have the strength to come off as clever or even disbelieving. "You can…see into the future? That's, like, your thing?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, but I was impressed nonetheless, as if I'd just discovered she could speak Italian or knew the strategic difference between a nine iron and a wedge. "But it's not crystal clear, like it would be if you were watching a television show. I get fragments, seconds of what's about to happen; sometimes minutes, rarely hours. I know the weather; I can predict the stock market. But I can't see every moment of your entire future like it's a miniseries on HBO." Alice was suddenly apprehensive; atypically, she finally looked no greater than her four-foot, eleven-inch frame. "Does that—do I make you nervous?"

Of everyone I'd had significant but tumultuous conversations with in the last 24 hours, Alice's presence at the foot of my bed was anything but nerve-wracking. "No, Alice. Not at all."

Her smile restricted itself to the lower half of her face. She took a deep breath, and I wondered if vampires even needed air. "My family--they wanted me to ask you if you were going to tell people what…we are."

My heart skipped a beat. "Is that why you're here? Because you think I'm going to rat you guys out?"

Just when I thought I had nothing left, I felt moisture seep down my face and drip from my chin to the hollow at the base of my neck.

The corners of her eyes crinkled in disbelief. "No, Bella. Of course not. I already told them that I didn't see you ever betraying us. But some of them—well, one of them—is a tough sell."

A lump rose in my throat. Of course, I knew who it was who doubted me. "He thinks that I'm going to what? Turn him in? Send the cops after him for being a living incarnation of something out of a Bram Stoker novel?"

"No." Alice shook her head feverishly. "Edward trusts you. He's an idiot about...well, a lot of things, but deep down, he knows you won't say anything. It's Rosalie, my sister. She thinks…the worst of people. I assured her to the contrary, but she's so stubborn."

"I won't tell a soul."

"I told her so. But, regardless, thank you." For the first time since her arrival, Alice smiled, a real smile, twinkling eyes and all. But the longer she looked at my face, the more her grin faded. "I've tried to see…what happens to you, Bella. But I can't. I want you to be strong, to be okay again, but all I can see is this blank future where nothing's clear. I can't make any sense of it."

I wasn't really concerned to the mechanics of ESP, so I could only bark out the only thought ricocheting through my brain. "I broke up with Jake."

"That I know."

"Does he—does your brother know that?"

"Not yet."

"I didn't do it for him. I get it. He doesn't…want me." I was so incredibly sick of those words, but they were all I heard in my inner monologue, so I repeated them like an anthem, even though they were anything but. Finally, even though I didn't want to do so in front of Alice, I let myself sob because otherwise, I was worried I'd never feel anything ever again. "But I don't love Jake, at least not like I'm supposed to. I just had to, Alice. I had to do it."

Wordlessly, she reached across my bed and hugged me. Her body was cold, and she was so very strong; maybe I should have turned away, given her close relationship with the person who had initiated my demise, but I just couldn't. I had no friends left, and Alice just got me. I didn't have to explain exactly what it was that made me fall apart; I could just inexplicably cry, and she didn't ask questions. So I returned her embrace, weeping into the chilly hardness of her shoulder.

Finally, I stopped and pulled away. I had to set my sights on the future; whatever I showed Alice, I knew he would eventually see, thanks to his freakish mind-reading capabilities. I may have been weak and wrecked, but I'd be damned before I let him read his sister's thoughts and see just how disgruntled I was in what should have been private, intimate moments between myself and a friend.

I wiped my hand against the damp sheen of tears covering my cheek. "We can't really be friends anymore, can we, Alice?"

She examined my hardened expression with disbelief. "Don't be stupid; of course we can. What are you talking about?"

"What you see, he sees. I can't…think about that part of my life anymore. It's over…and I just…can't." The numbness was back, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I completely shut down again, returning to my near-comatose examination of the ceiling above my bed.

I was done acknowledging her presence. In any other frame of mind, I would have felt guilty for treating Alice with such indifference, but I was incapable of conscious thought when it came to anyone, even someone I liked as much as I liked Alice. I closed my eyes, hoping she'd be gone once I re-opened them. Into the blackness of my eyelids, I muttered, "I won't be sitting with you at lunch. I won't see you at all." I swallowed and continued with my final parting words, "Every time I look at you, I see him. And I think I might start to hate him, Alice, and the last thing I want to do is hate you, so this is it for you and me."

I felt her come closer. In my ear, she cautiously whispered, "I'm so sorry, Bella. I wish things could be different; I really do." She patted my shoulder with her forceful yet feathery touch. "You have to come back to school, though. You can't just fall apart. You're better than this."

And then she was gone.

Even in my fractured, unfeeling state, I knew she was right. I _would _have to go back. But when I did, I wouldn't be able to look at him ever again. I would survive by putting forth minmum effort, going through the motions without ever truly feeling my surroundings. He'd ruined me, showing me what it felt like to really fall in love before denying me any affection in return. For Edward, I gave up Jake, the only person I knew to be trustworthy and true in my tumultuous, lonely life. I'd never known hate or betrayal until I'd met Edward Cullen. But now I did. Had I any reflexes left in my stiff limbs, I would've cringed at the thought of seeing him again. Instead, I just curled up against my lumpy mattress and waited listlessly for the coming day, when I'd return to school and somehow figure out a plan for my own survival.


	27. Survival

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Survival**

At 15, I made the decision to put my mother's happiness above my own. My move to Forks from Phoenix was solely so she could follow her new, twenty-something husband around the minor-league baseball circuit, watching him strike out in his few trips at bat and keeping him company in cross-country Greyhound buses and roadside motel rooms. It made her happy, being with Phil, so I couldn't stand in her way; over her insistence that she'd stay behind with me in Phoenix, I chose to pack up and head for Charlie's, a place I hadn't visited since I was a kid. Yet, despite my fear and homesickness, I knew I was doing the right thing, for Renee's sake, and anytime doubt crossed my mind, I told myself that I was strong and capable of surviving on my own.

What I didn't understand was that there was more to life than just survival. When I found Jake, I couldn't believe how much better I felt having a real friend, someone who liked me for who I was and never judged me. I thought I was complete...and then I discovered something legions beyond Jacob's friendship, some sort of emotional voodoo that lifted the weight from my shoulders and made me eager to share every piece of myself with another person. And then that something, rather that _someone_,ripped the euphoria from under me and sent me back to my struggle for basic survival. Only now that struggle was much worse, for I knew just how good life could feel and exactly what I was missing. It was like living in a warm, cozy cottage with heat and electricity and suddenly being transported back to the Dark Ages with nothing for warmth but a small fire inside a cave where I could keep myself alive but not really _live_.

My own personal Dark Age started the morning following Alice's visit. After another near-sleepless night, I forced myself to sharpen my survival skills. I dragged myself out of bed. I dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and fraying jeans. I pretended to eat cereal as Charlie studied me from across the kitchen, likely looking for the warning signs of crazy. I looked like hell, but at least I was functioning. Sort of.

I still couldn't cry, so I zombied my way to school and through the parking lot, staring at nothing but the pavement three feet in front of me.

The first hurdle of the day was Spanish—Spanish with Alice. I had five minutes before the bell, and I contemplated hiding in my bathroom-stall safe house until the absolute last second before I had to be in my seat. However, where there should have been panic, I found only dullness, so I stoically shoved open the door and collapsed into my chair with a slight thud. I never knew whether Alice was in class that morning because all I did was stare blankly at the faux wood-grain pattern on my desktop for fifty minutes straight until it was time to head to second period.

The rest of the morning passed like a depressing, slow-motion game of musical chairs, with me slumping into my assigned seat in each class, not moving or interacting with my surroundings until the next bell rang. When lunchtime came, Angela may have tried to say something to me in the hallway, but I just stalked past her to the library, where I hid in the deserted periodicals section, using a newspaper to shield myself from view.

Eventually, the lunch hour ended, meaning only one thing: English.

This time, I did wait until the final possible moment before lurching off down the hallway, out the double doors, and into the modular building across the courtyard that housed Mr. Berty's classroom. Without looking at anyone, I approached his desk.

"Mr. Berty, I'm having problems seeing from the back of the room. Would you mind if...?" It was the first time I'd spoken all day, and my tone was so flat I wasn't sure if the words really came out as a question.

He sighed and motioned to someone behind me. "Newton, switch seats with Miss Swan."

I took Mike's seat without thanking him. I was situated toward the front of the room now, with most of the students behind me, meaning I couldn't droop down and make myself invisible like I had in my morning classes.

I knew he wasn't there yet, even though class would begin in less than fifteen seconds. Had he been in his seat, I would have felt him.

When the door creaked open an instant later, goosebumps raised the thin hairs on my arms as my heart stopped. I cowered behind my long, matted hair, obstructing my view of him, but it didn't really matter; each nerve in my body was tuned into his every move and he knew it.

Rather than walk down the aisle that would take him directly to his desk and past mine, he opted to take the route farthest from me. I heard his chair scrape slightly against the linoleum as he took his seat, but after that, he didn't make a sound.

I should have sat up straight in my chair with my shoulders back to show him he hadn't broken me, but it was all I could do to keep my body still, to ward off the trembling. My effort paid off; throughout the class period, I was rigid, much like he'd been on that infamous first day of school. My heartbeats were irregular in my chest, but I didn't feel the urge to sob. My anesthetized emotional state should have been a relief, but the numbness inside was just as disturbing; even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't feel anything other than the ache of my overly tensed muscles.

When the hour ended, I knew he'd disappear within seconds, and my sixth sense that involuntarily tracked his every movement told me I was right. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Mike making his way over to me, so I gathered up my books and, despite my sluggish speed, managed to outmaneuver him to the door.

The final hour of the day and the subsequent drive home were much of the same—complete nothingness.

I made Charlie dinner that night but didn't eat any myself. Instead, I did my Calculus homework and digested six chapters of the Aldous Huxley novel we were reading in English. School work was fantastically tedious, confusing at times but never unpredictable. I welcomed the monotony and the way it made time tick away in even, vacant increments. For three months, it served as the key to my continued survival.

X X X

Time passed before me like a movie, never including me in the action except for short spurts where some random event would drag me into making a cameo appearance in my own life. Those moments were few and far between, but when they stirred me from my waking death, try as I might, I couldn't forget them.

X X X

On Christmas day, I made Charlie a ham. He told me between mouthfuls that he was grateful that I stuck with him in Forks rather than heading to Jacksonville and Renee for the holiday.

Uncharacteristically, he put his calloused hand on mine and told me he loved me.

And then he ruined it by adding, "That kid was crazy to let you go."

Of course, he'd meant Jake. He'd also meant to comfort me, but his words had the opposite effect. I told him I was full though I hadn't eaten a single bite and spent the rest of the day in my room, staring blankly out the window, feeling nothing but a weak desire for snow instead of sleeting rain.

X X X

On December 30th, I received a large, thick envelope in the mail. Dartmouth apparently had an outreach program for underqualified zombies, explaining why it accepted my early-decision application and offered to take $36,000 I didn't have off my hands for a single year of tuition.

Renee screamed joyfully into the phone at the news, while Charlie took me out to dinner at the Lodge, sparing my eardrums but weighing heavily on my guilty conscious as he told me he'd mortgage his house to put me through freshman year.

"You don't have to do that, Dad. In fact, please _don't_."

He squinted at me and asked, "Is it what you want?"

In truth, no. I wanted something that wasn't even real, that had nothing to do with academia or responsible choices. I wanted the feeling back from all those weeks ago that had snuck into my heart, stolen my sanity, and made me grin like the village idiot on psychotropic drugs. But that wasn't possible, not anymore, and I couldn't really express any of it to Charlie, so I just told him in weak protest, "I just want…not to be here, Dad. But—"

He silenced me by shoving a plate of undercooked spaghetti in front of me and saying, "Eat something, Bells. You look like a bag of bones."

One week later, he dropped a postal receipt in front of me and ruffled my greasy hair on his way out the door. Right before he slammed it shut, he cheerfully called over his shoulder, "Check's in the mail, kid. I hope you can use all those raincoats of yours in New Hampshire."

X X X

On January 2nd, I worked an all-day shift at Newton Outfitters, spending the entire time in Mike's company while we did post-Christmas inventory.

I'd pretty much allowed my comatose state to do the talking for me where Mike and my other school acquaintances were concerned, but I never realized just how much I'd alienated myself until Mike asked, "So did you and that boyfriend of yours have a good New Years' Eve? We missed you guys at Jessica's party."

I dropped a sizable box of life jackets on my foot before I grumbled, "We broke up."

Mike noisily sucked in the air in front of him to cover the awkward silence that followed. Eventually, he remarked, "Sorry. Not the best time to break up with somebody...New Year's Eve...ouch."

He didn't sound as disappointed as he should have, but I barely noticed. "We split up in November."

I practically heard the wheels turning in his head, connecting the break-up with my bizarrely stoic, evasive behavior. "Oh, so that's why..."

"Yeah."

Mike snuck a peek at my face out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, if you ever want to talk about it—"

"I'm fine."

When school resumed following Christmas break, half the student population thought I'd been tragically dumped and subjected me to looks of pity in the hallway. The attention was unwelcome, but I figured I couldn't really complain, even if I had the energy; it was better than the looks I'd get if they knew the truth.

X X X

On January 11th, I heard him speak for the first time since that apocalyptic night in the forest. It was English class, where we were reading _Animal Farm. _In light of a rather contagious case of senioritis among many of his students, Mr. Berty had taken to implementing the Socratic Method to scare us into completing our reading assignments, selecting his victims randomly and skewering them for several minutes before returning to his lecture.

"Mr. Cheney, why don't you tell us what you think Orwell was trying to tell us through the character of Napoleon?"

I was barely conscious, not bothering to pay attention, since my pathetic, despondent attitude seemed to somehow earn me Mr. Berty's pity, sparing me from his inquisitions. Without looking up, I heard Ben's chair rattle and knew he'd jumped a little as his classmates' attention zeroed in on his answer. "Uh, I don't really—"

Berty's temper was shorter than usual. Cutting Ben off, he asked sarcastically, "No, you really don't, do you, Mr. Cheney?" I didn't need to look up from my desk to know he was now searching the room for a new casualty. Ironically, he selected the one student who could never serve as prey. "Mr. Cullen? Your thoughts?"

In a clear but emotionless voice, he answered, "Napoleon is the villain. He serves as the central example of everything Orwell hates about communism; really, he represents Joseph Stalin. Both Stalin and Napoleon set up dictatorships which fared far worse than the government each replaced. When Napoleon and the other pigs take on human-like behavior at the end of the novel, Orwell is illustrating the pigs have become exactly what they sought to eradicate."

Halfway through Mr. Berty's response to the answer, I finally realized my eyes had been closed. When I opened them, the usually familiar surroundings seemed somehow foreign, confirming that I was a stranger in my own skin.

X X X

On Valentine's Day, in my own lethargic way of protesting all things love and romance, I took the things I owned that were explicitly tied to Jacob, placed them in a box, and sealed them up inside with duct tape. I missed him, but I knew we could never go back to the friendship fate had intended us to share. Instead, I packed away the physical evidence of our time together so I wouldn't have to think about the catalyst that tore us apart.

After about an hour, I ripped the box open again and dug to the bottom until I found the necklace Jake gave me for my birthday. The emerald dangling from the delicate silver chain wasn't real, but it still looked like it wasn't cheap and I knew I'd never wear it again. Placing it in an envelope, I debated whether to include a note but decided nothing I could say would ever remedy what I'd done.

I wrote Jake's name across the front and gave it to Charlie, who promised to drop it by the next time he and Billy went fishing.

X X X

On February 20th, I slipped in the parking lot after school and drove myself one-handed to the ER, already knowing that I'd sprained my left wrist when I used it to catch the rest of me as I slammed against the concrete.

Dr. Cullen was my attending physician.

My eyes were fixated on the laces of my shoes as soon as he walked in the room. When he spoke, I only heard his words in incremental phrases.

"...should heal within four to six weeks..."

"...prescription for the pain, though it will be relatively minor after a day or two..."

"...malnourished..."

"...concerned about you..."

"Bella? Are you listening to what I'm telling you?" He touched my arm then, and I jumped as if his hand was a fully charged defibrillator paddle.

Within seconds, I'd eased back into my familiar lifelessness. In an eerily even voice, I responded, "I'm fine. I'll keep it elevated."

He knelt at the end of the table so my downturned face could register the concern in his eyes. "You weigh thirteen pounds less than you did the last time you were in here three months ago. You need to take better care of yourself, Isabella." He took in a breath, and I knew he likely didn't need it. Hesitantly, he added, "People are worried about you."

"Tell Alice I'm fine." Alice's near-obsession with my welfare had always stumped me, as we were never exceptionally close. For a second, the look in her eyes when I'd cut off our budding friendship flashed in my head; it made no sense for her to mourn the casual relationship we'd once shared, yet she looked as if she'd just lost her best friend.

Dr. Cullen's stare was overtly searching my face. I didn't have the energy to guess what he was looking for.

"You need nourish—"

I was desperate for a distraction from my own well-being or lack thereof, so I cut him off without considering the propriety of my words. "How can you work here, with all the blood?"

I stared blandly at him, expecting to see surprise or maybe fear. He didn't cringe at all at my matter-of-factness and instead smiled gently. "Years of practice. It doesn't even affect me anymore."

I sighed, knowing I was being presumptuous and rude but not really caring. Still, for good measure, I mumbled, "I won't say anything, just so you know."

"Oh yes, I know that already."

_Alice. How convenient having a psychic in the family must be. _

Dr. Cullen went back to scribbling on my chart. As he was leaving, he turned back to me once more. The easy smile still lingered on his face, but his tone was stern. "Eat something, Bella. Take care of yourself."

I made no promises and returned to studying the woven fibers on my shoes until a nurse came i n and told me I could go home.

X X X

On February 28th, I finally woke up.

I'd like to say that it was some epic event or realization that dragged me from my walking coma, but it wasn't. Instead, it was just a combination of little twists of fate that stirred me into feeling again.

It started when the ninth grade civics class was assigned a research paper for the spring semester. The more overzealous students felt compelled to get a jump start on the assignment, which meant my once-deserted periodicals section in the corner of the library was now frequented by vertically challenged fourteen-year-olds looking for non-Wikipedia sources on modern-day democracy. My newspaper shield was no longer enough to keep me hidden, so I opted for Plan B: the girls' bathroom.

The lunch hour had begun ten minutes earlier, so the halls were fairly deserted. Still, I walked at a breakneck speed because I wasn't used to roaming around freely in the middle of the hour and had no idea who might be lurking around in the corridors.

Turns out it was Angela.

"Bella!" She greeted me like she hadn't seen me in ages, which, I suppose, in some ways, she hadn't.

"Hey," I muttered as I kept walking.

She must have taken my rare acknowledgment of her presence as a sign, because her hand shot out and found my arm. "Are you going to lunch today?"

I stopped short. "Uh, no." I couldn't help but staring at the spot on my forearm where she'd reached out and touched me. Outside of Charlie's awkward are-you-okay-Bells pats on the back or hand, I hadn't made physical contact with anyone in months.

"You should," she said sincerely, a softness in her tone that would have silenced a crying, colicky infant.

"I—No. I don't go in there." I nodded toward the cafeteria doors at the end of the hall.

"You can sit with Ben and me. We need a buffer—Jessica and Mike broke up last week and it's like a war zone at their end of the table because both of them refuse to sit somewhere else." Angela smiled sheepishly, but she did a piss-poor job of hiding the concern in her eyes.

"I'm not hungry, Angela." Each word was too sharp, but she brushed off my mild hostility and continued to smile carefully at me.

Hesitating slightly before she spoke, Angela responded, "You look hungry."

I followed her gaze to the glass trophy case behind me, where our reflections stood in sharp contrast. Angela had always been tall and model-thin, but next to me, she looked like a line-backer, and that was no affront to her. It was me who was the problem. When she'd grabbed m y arm moments earlier, subconscious warning bells had started to go off. Her thin, lithe fingers had encircled my entire forearm, with space to spare. Far too much space.

I slowly and not too subtly trailed my right hand up my left arm and felt the protruding bones of my wrist and elbow. The skin not resting atop the bones in my forearm sagged slightly, as if I was literally, as Charlie constantly stressed in his frequent dinnertime lectures, a bag of bones.

_What are you doing? _a voice inside me asked. It was the first time I'd engaged in inner monologue about my own welfare in months. _Why can't you cry? Why can't you eat? Who are you?_

I couldn't answer my own questions; all I could do was listen. My stomach growled. My breaths were shaky. My fingertips were tapping a nervous, involuntary symphony against my thigh. I may have been numb, but for months, my body had been unsuccessfully trying to tell me I was falling apart.

Angela still watched me, likely debating to herself whether she should leave me alone or force-feed me whatever was inside her brown paper lunch bag. "So?" She nodded awkwardly toward the cafeteria.

It was senseless for me to go in there; the cafeteria represented everything I was running from. But then I realized that I'd already received the hurt, the rejection, the loss; while I couldn't feel it, it still had happened; the nothingness couldn't erase the past. Being constantly numb was surprisingly exhausting, and I understood suddenly that I _wanted _to let go, to feel something, even if what I felt was pain.

So I nodded back at Angela. "Okay."

She led the way, with me following like an anxious, injured puppy. When we walked through the doorway, I couldn't look anywhere but at my feet; there were too many faces I refused to see. I was careful, though, because I knew that if I tripped, the world would be watching and I no longer had anyone to catch me.

Angela and I went through the lunch line; I knew she didn't need extra food since she'd brought her lunch, meaning she'd gone to the charade to ensure I ate something. I bought an apple and a bottled lemonade. I was trying, but I still couldn't miraculously down an entire serving of anything in one sitting.

We arrived at the usual table, or at least what had been my usual lunch table before... I swallowed at the thought before dropping my fruit and plastic bottle onto the hard Formica. The apple was probably bruised, but I found that somehow oddly comforting.

All of them—Ben, Tyler, Mike, Conner, Jessica, Lauren—stopped talking suddenly as if someone had pressed the mute button on the remote.

I sat, not lifting my eyes from the surface in front of me. Angela, usually the shy, nonspeaking one, started making forced small talk, and Mike willingly joined in. I didn't hear nor care what they said; I was focused only on surviving the rest of the hour. I didn't have to do it well, I told myself. I didn't have to convince everyone I was in high spirits or found their commentary on _American Idol_'s panel of judges enthralling; I just had to sit there and take it until one o'clock hit.

I looked at the scratched face of my watch: thirty-seven minutes. I could handle thirty-seven minutes.

And I did handle it, up until the last fourteen minutes when Lauren opened her big, overly glossed mouth. "So, Bella, how are you holding up?" The innocence forced into her voice mocked me.

I twisted the stem off my apple core and asked flatly, "Excuse me?"

"The break-up? Are you okay?" Her feigned concern made me want to retch. I eyed the new Coach bag she'd flagrantly perched next to her tray.

Out came my standard reply. "I'm fine."

Mike cleared his throat. "So, anyone planning on going to that Nickelback concert in Seattle next weekend?"

No one answered him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jessica asked dumbly, as if she were doing me a favor. I knew not much went down in Forks, but my months-old break-up with Jake surely wasn't worth such interest. Yet, perhaps it truly would be yesterday's news if I'd refrained from acting like an extra from _Dawn of the Dead _for months on end; really, I could only blame myself for fueling the gossip.

In response to Jessica's moronic question, I shook my head no.

I stared past Jessica at the painted concrete wall behind her, but, out of the very corner of my eye, I still saw it happen. Lauren eyed Jessica, pointedly moved her gaze across the cafeteria to somewhere over my shoulder, and then looked back at Jess knowingly. I knew the direction she'd focused on. I knew who sat there. And I knew what she was implying.

Lauren caught me staring at her but didn't drop the condescendingly suggestive expression from her face. Something inside me snapped. I felt whatever it was break and reveled in the sensation, the first sensation I'd felt other than exhaustion in a very long time.

"You are so wrong, Lauren." My voice cracked as I spoke, but the point was that I said it.

"What are you talking about?" She took a si p from her Diet Coke and stared at the ceiling.

I gripped my hands together under the table to curb my rapidly building anxiety. "It has nothing to do...with...him."

Lauren creased her eyebrows in mock confusion. "With who?"

The rest of the table was quiet in their mutual bewilderment.

My fingers wrung tighter against each other. I could just drop it and go back to my silent cocoon where I would feel none of the pain, but my zombie charade was grueling and I was sick of fearing fear.

I released my hands and curled my palms around the sides of my chair. For the first time in eighty-nine days, I thought his name. Then, I spoke it. "Edward Cullen."

Lauren's lips curled up for a second in a sneer before she hid them again behind her can of soda.

I wouldn't let her do this to me. Lauren was horrible, and I knew it was because she was bored and insecure and desperately lost. Still, she couldn't be the one to unravel me. Not now. Not on her terms.

"I broke up with Jake because he and I weren't right for each other. Edward Cullen is an arrogant, selfish jerk who can't see past his own reflection to ever really like anybody. We were just friends, if that. So no, it wasn't about him."

I'd sounded so mean, which was odd considering how I was on the verge of crumbling.

Angela, Mike, and a few others shot Lauren dirty looks, so she tried to cover her tracks by continuing with her contrived oblivion. "What? I didn't say anything."

In an incredibly misguided attempt to comfort me, Jessica whispered, "It's cool, Bella. He's pretty nice to look at. I totally wouldn't blame you."

My teeth grinded together, and my breaths were too slow to be effective. "Nothing. Happened."

Jessica, taken aback, responded, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just saying, you know, I'd get it if...well, if—nevermind."

I watched her swallow and move her eyes down to her lap. _Was she _afraid_ of me? _

Angela said something about the paper due in English next week, but everyone blocked her out to focus on me. In Forks, drama was better than Christmas.

Lauren, not meeting my stare, watched him from over my shoulder. "I get what you're saying, Bella. He's out of _a lot _of people's reach." She moved her blue eyes back to my face during that last phrase. "Anyone thinking they stand a chance with someone like him would have to be an idiot." Nodding in his direction, she smiled knowingly. She could have been talking about herself, but I knew better; she was referring to me. It was sickening.

I knew what Lauren's motivation was as I recalled her fawning over him in her drunken haze at Mike's birthday party, right before he unapologetically ditched her to come sit with me on the dock. It should have made me smile like it did then, but instead, my insides churned as I realized she and I belonged in the same category: girls he didn't want.

I looked Lauren straight in the eye. _An idiot_, she'd said. I scoffed, but my disheartened tone betrayed me. "Yeah, you'd have to be."

Talking about it, about him, for the first time since the night it all went down put me on the brink of something real. Of feeling. I needed it, even though I was well aware the pain would be the equivalent of an unanaesthetized lobotomy.

I pushed my chair back away from the edge of the table and looked at them. All of them. Faces I hadn't seen in months, Angela's sympathetic, Mike's worried, Tyler's perplexed, Conner's distracted by a stain on his shirt, Jessica's insecure, Lauren's deceptively cruel. I took them all in before turning my back and racing out of the cafeteria, toward the bathroom. I knew their faces followed me on my way out, but I was more aware of someone else's attention. Someone I hadn't looked at in months. I chose not to look at him now either, though I directly passed his table on my way out. Regardless of where I averted my gaze, I could feel him examining my fleeting form with his eyes.

I moved faster and shoved open the heavy wooden door to the girls' restroom with too much force. It banged against the wall and would have slammed back against me had I not already rushed myself inside. I stood at the sink, gripping the porcelain with both hands. In the mirror, I examined every crevice of my face. My cheekbones protruded from the rest of my features, looking sickeningly sharp, as if able to slice right through my sallow skin. My hair was slick with the oil of three showerless days. I wore no makeup, and the circles under my eyes made me look decades older than eighteen. My lips were chapped; I'd been biting them relentlessly in my sleep. I was at the crux of my Dark Age, and I looked like I belonged there, grimy and malnourished, surviving on the most bare and basic level. I was disgusting, and I knew my physical appearance was paying the price of my internal denial.

"What are you doing?" I asked myself aloud, repeating the question that I'd been unable to answer less than an hour before. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, letting it drip down my chin as I stared blankly at my own reflection. "Why can't you just be happy?"

Even before I'd moved to Forks, I'd felt like something was missing from my life, though I hadn't a clue what that was. I wouldn't have categorized myself as miserable, but I was never happy. With Jake, I was better, content even...but still lacking something that kept me from feeling excitement over the coming day when I woke up in the morning or sated when I fell asleep at night. Honestly, I thought all of that hype about being in love was mythical or, at the very least, overrated…until it happened to me.

A hundred years ago, or so it seemed, Edward had made me happy. I missed the person I thought he was, the person with the smug, lopsided smile who always had some annoyingly perfect comeback to everything I ever told him. Now, on top of mourning him, I also kind of hated him, and though I could try to talk myself out of it, I couldn't help but think he deserved every bit of hatred that was starting to boil inside of me.

Because of him, I'd become the corpse in the classroom and the daughter incapable of radiating warmth. I could blame Edward for everything I'd become since that night he humiliated my affections in the forest. I could push it all onto him and continue to tell people at school how arrogant and selfish he was.

Or I could just accept the simple truth that he and I were never meant to be. It had felt so right, so perfect when we spent time together, but clearly, I'd been delusional. For that delusion, I could only blame one person: myself.

I was weak not because of what Edward had said, but because I'd allowed myself to fall apart and refuse to deal with life. Growing up with Renee, watching over her like a mother hen, I thought I was self-reliant and strong. Now I saw that I'd been lying to myself. I was passive, a coward, a doormat. Worse still was that I'd let my fascination with Edward turn me into a silly little girl who'd finally let herself believe that happily ever afters and true love weren't relegated to pipe dreams and fairy tales.

I wanted to be strong and impenetrable.

I wanted to say I was fine and mean it.

I wanted to be hungry again.

I wanted to cry so I could face the pain head on rather than allow it to eat away at me from the inside.

I just wanted to _feel. _

So I did. I grabbed the narrow ledge above the sink once used for bar soap before the school installed dispensers and leaned my weight onto it. The ledge cracked, the broken part sharp and cold against my palm. Feeling the discomfort of the jagged piece of plastic in my hand pleased me. The slight, dulling pain was a feeling, but this wasn't about hurting myself; I'd already done enough of that.

I wanted more sensations, and more were coming; in the mirror, I saw the tears begin to form over the pinkness of my lower eyelids. They flowed and then gushed. I stepped backwards into the third of the three bathroom stalls and sunk into the corner, on the floor, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around myself.

I let myself think—really think—for the first time since he'd left me wrecked and sobbing in the woods. I thought of Jake, how I hadn't seen him in months and didn't really want the distance between us to lapse because he was a reminder of everything I gave up for something I could never have. I thought of Renee's nearly hysterical voice at the end of our last phone call, telling me I needed to move to Florida so she could force me into the sun and make me feel loved. I thought of Charlie and how he hovered over me nervously, waiting for the tears he thought were inevitable but that I for so long knew were impossible. Finally, I thought of Edward, the Edward I used to know, and mourned the loss of him, telling myself I could walk through life without him, feeling fine again and knowing the amazing time we'd shared together was a fleeting gift that I should have never expected to last.

It felt terrible and cathartic at all once.

My sobs were mostly silent, with only a few desperate whimpers betraying me. For two hours, I never left that corner of the girls' bathroom. I skipped English, then History. When the bell rang signaling the end of the school day, the tears tapered off and I knew I had to get the hell out of the building before anyone saw me; my tearful release was for me alone, not for an audience.

I literally ran out of the bathroom and down the hall to my locker. No students had reached that corner of the building yet, as I was lucky enough to have a locker near the administrative offices rather than any classrooms. I grabbed my coat and my keys and squinted through my tears, planning to head to the parking lot.

I was still crying a little when I heard a noise behind me. Mike had found me, somehow, and was studying me with wide, concerned eyes.

"Lauren's an asshole. I'm sorry, Bella."

He was the first person I truly saw after I woke up that afternoon. Mike stood in front of me with his arms out a little, hesitating as if I might rip him apart limb by limb.

Instead, I stepped forward and let him hug me. Granted, he was Mike and I'd probably be paying for this later, but I didn't care. It could have been the abominable snowman offering to embrace me and my reaction would have been exactly the same. My willingness to let him hug me stemmed from both the longing for physical contact I'd realized when Angela had touched my arm earlier and the desire to shock myself again like I had with the soap dish in the bathroom.

I put my arms awkwardly around Mike's shoulders, being cautious not to get too close to him, as I knew I was already on dangerous ground when it came to him misinterpreting things. I let myself cry again, the tears streaming down my face.

The hallway was still empty, except for my hushed sobs, or else I wouldn't have heard Mike say, "Edward Cullen is such a douche. Seriously. He's not worth it."

Clearly, my little tirade at lunch had done nothing to dissuade what I'm sure the rumor mill had been spinning for months about the true cause of my break-up with Jake.

"...such a jerk," Mike was mumbling.

A jerk or not, I wouldn't let myself discuss Edward anymore. I reigned the focus back to where it belonged. "No," I sniffled. "I'm the jerk. Trust me."

Mike just hugged me a little tighter, in a miraculously friendly way. Over his shoulder, I saw movement, and my breath hitched.

Like always, I sensed him without looking.

Edward.

He was standing at the other end of the vacant hallway. I let myself examine the shadow his body cast on the tile. He wasn't moving. He was watching me. He had to be.

I knew his face like I knew my own, but I hadn't seen it in the flesh since that rainy nightmare of an evening in November. If I was to snatch my survival out of the Dark Ages, if I was to ever be truly functional again, I needed to say goodbye.

He'd said his farewell months ago, but I never had my turn.

Slowly, barely able to see over Mike's shoulder, I moved my eyes to Edward's face. _One look at him_, I told myself, _and then you have to let him go. _

When I finally was able to take in his expression, I expected to see hatred or disgust or maybe, in the most optimistic of pretenses, guilt or pity. Instead, I couldn't make out what was going on behind his deceptively beautiful mask.

His eyes were focused intensely on mine. I'd needed them to be pitch black and narrowed into slits for this to be easier, so that I couldn't confuse the cold, unfeeling bastard he really was with the witty, compassionate boy I loved. My heart squeezed a little as I saw tawny gold instead of ebony, widened eyelids suggesting shock over the meeting of our gazes rather than disdainful squinting.

I wanted to slap him across the jaw for making me confuse fantasy with reality. He didn't look any different than he had all those days we'd sat within arm's length in the cafeteria, our thighs so close they could have touched. I felt the tears get thicker against my cheek.

I could have looked away, but I didn't. I knew I looked godawful, so I let him see me, how much he'd hurt me and how hard I was trying to let him go. Each sob was meant for him just as much as it was for me, to show him that I was trying as hard as I could to walk away.

He kept watching me, as if he was being sucked into a whirlpool but wasn't making any effort to keep himself from drowning.

I stopped crying and clenched my jaw. I wasn't sure what game he was playing, but he had absolutely no right to look at me like I didn't bore him to death.

Edward backed up, toward the door, and his eyes flickered to where my hands gripped slightly at Mike's shoulders.

My nostrils flared a little, but my eyes were still wet. I had no idea what message I was trying to send him. Anger? Hurt? Then I remembered that this wasn't about communication, it was about closure. So I stole one last glance at him, my face open and likely pained and then closed my eyes.

I heard a door slam and knew he'd left. I backed away from Mike's embrace, muttering an apology. A few other students had wondered into the corridor, and I realized that though it had felt like an eternity in purgatory, Edward an d I had only locked eyes for about a minute.

"I'm fine," I told Mike's apprehensive face, knowing I was lying.

My stomach growled, and I reconsidered my answer as I realized I was a little hungry. Modifying my words, I tried for the truth, for my benefit, not for Mike's. "Or at least I will be."


	28. Fine

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Fine**

He leaned toward her, inhaling raggedly before folding his lips into hers. Her hands were in his hair and then flattened against his overly developed pecs, while his hands caressed her shoulders before moving to her waist to yank her closer. As for me, my hands were cupped over my mouth, hiding an unrepentant scowl and keeping me from overtly gagging in front of Jessica and Angela.

"I thought this movie was supposed to be about a serial killer with Mommy issues. Why are people sucking face every ten minutes?"

"Shhh, Bella. They've only kissed twice. Calm down." Jessica stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth and readjusted her position on the couch.

I knew going into this I was in for a challenging evening, but I was doing my damndest to be "normal" again, so I plastered a feigned look of intrigue on my face and forced my gaze back to the television.

It was Friday, over two weeks after my soggy emotional breakdown at school where I'd voluntarily wrapped my arms around Mike Newton in utter despair. I could easily view that afternoon as rock bottom, but instead I interpreted it as a new beginning, a realization that I didn't have to be numb to be functional. I could cry. I could laugh. I could be normal. Maybe not happy, or giddy…but definitely normal.

In order to test my theory, I accepted Angela's invitation to a sleepover at her house. Also, she'd not so subtly mentioned Lauren was out of town, so it would just be Angela, Jessica, and myself, meaning I had no viable excuse to back out. As a bonus, me going out with friends also served to convince Charlie that I wasn't suicidal or some sort of sociopath.

Except the more I hung out with my classmates, the more _I _became convinced I actually was a sociopath. I had been lonely as hell for months, but being around other people my age wasn't exactly remedying that. It was just so much _work_coming up with things to say to them. I much preferred sitting at home, reading Chuck Palahniuk novels so I could compare myself with the morbidly warped characters and feel relatively normal. As for my old pals Jane Austen and the Brontes, their works were gathering dust under my bed; I wanted nothing to do with their delusional tales of true love and soul mates.

On the television, the living incarnations of Barbie and Ken were now running, scantily clad, away from a mortally wounded but surprisingly fast Anthony Perkins wannabe. I couldn't wait for their inevitably grisly deaths; anyone who wasted time making out when being pursued by an ax-wielding maniac deserved to bite it hard.

Five minutes later, Barbie got impaled by a pitchfork. "Yes!" I whispered, rejoicing.

Jessica shot me a look of pure annoyance. "What is _wrong _with you, Bella? That scene was totally disgusting."

I shrugged. "You picked the movie. I'm just along for the ride."

I sounded like kind of an asshole these days, but I didn't really care about what people thought of me. There was no point worrying about my image, since I couldn't fit in even if I tried. My apathy made times like these especially dangerous.

"I only picked it because you refused the first ten movies I suggested."

"They were all Julia Roberts movies, Jess."

"_While You Were Sleeping _stars Sandra Bullock," she shot back, indigent.

"Same difference. Besides, both of them have huge mouths, with these oversized, blinding-white teeth. And they're always _smiling_." I cringed as if smiling was the equivalent of picking at scabs or popping whiteheads.

Jessica merely sighed, not wanting to encourage me further. Her short temper probably had more to do with my refusal to paint my fingernails bubble-gum pink an hour ago or participate in a rousing game of "Who Would You Do" with respect to the boys in the senior class. On top of it all, Angela asked Jess and I to bring snacks. Jessica made funfetti cupcakes from scratch; I grabbed a half-eaten bag of Charlie's beef jerky on my way out the door. Clearly, I was not the optimal slumber party participant.

Angela, forever the pacifist, calmly passed Jessica a half-eaten carton of Häagen-Dazs. "I actually kind of like this movie. Ben wanted to see it a couple of months ago while it was in theaters, and I refused. He's going to gloat when I tell him it wasn't half bad."

"Yeah," I agreed, for lack of anything polite to say.

Jessica was at full attention, though. "How are things going with you and Ben, Ang? Any, uh, new _progress _in that area?"

She smirked. Angela flushed. I scoffed.

So now we were talking about boys. _Lord, strike me dead. Right here, right now. _

"We're cool," Angela hedged.

"I hope not too 'cool.'" And then she winked. Actually _winked_. Jessica could not be real; she was like some walking stereotype, a talking hybrid of _Us Weekly _and _Seventeen_ magazine.

Before Jessica could spout off about things between Ben and Angela "heating up," I interjected, "Knock it off. Angela doesn't want to talk about it."

Angela snuck me a hint of a grateful smile.

Jessica was onto herself now, the movie long forgotten. "Mike shoved the CD I made him for Valentine's Day through one of the slits in my locker today." Her face was a mixture of hurt and spite. "It fell out when I opened it after lunch. Which, of course, meant he sat there, through the entire lunch hour, across from me at the table, knowing what a douchey thing he'd just done. The whole time he just smiled like he was on top of the freaking world."

"Who returns a gift? He could have just kept it and not listened to it. That sucks. I'm sorry." Angela was so good at sympathy; no one was _that _nice, deep down, but I couldn't help but think that maybe Angela was the exception to the rule.

I kept quiet and shoved a fistful of kettle corn in my mouth.

Jessica's brow scrunched in consternation. "I mean, he won't talk to me. At. All. He should just sit somewhere else at lunch. But nooooooo…he has to keep that chubby little face of his right in front of me so I can't forget about him."

"It'll get easier. You guys broke up before, right? And you were fine then, just like you'll be fine again. Just give it a little time." Angela nodded in encouragement to enforce the sincerity of her words.

Jessica only nodded and sniffled a little, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Hysterical, unremitting laughter cut through the uncomfortable silence. It took a second, but then I realized it was coming out of my mouth.

Angela and Jessica looked at me, horrified and confused, as if I'd morphed into the ax-murderer from the movie right before their eyes.

Still, I kept laughing. Hard, loud, maniacal. It felt weird and wrong but also…_really good. _

"Bella?" Angela asked nervously. "Are you alright?"

I ignored her, instead responding to the earlier comment she'd directed at Jessica between fits of hilarity. "Fine?" I gasped. "She'll be fine? It really works like that?"

"Uh, sure?" Angela responded, not sure what to do with me.

"Oh, okay," I huffed out incredulously. By now, tears streamed down the apples of my cheeks, and the corners of my mouth stung a little from turning upward for the first time in months. "That's great," I choked between guffaws, "Really great."

"What the hell, Bella? What's with you?" Jessica's nose scrunched up a bit. She reminded me of a thinner, brunette Miss Piggy.

"Fine." I giggled out the word. "_Fine?_"

I doubled over to appease my aching belly. Exhaling, my face still frozen in laughter, I said it again. "Fine."

The smile died on my face. _Fine_.

"Fine" sounded awful.

"Fine" was how people describe themselves after a car wreck. They crawl out of the debris and assure the EMTs"I'm fine" because they're still alive, even if their limbs are broken and their car has transformed into a useless accordion of twisted metal.

Once, in the school nurse's office, I said I was "fine" when I had a cold because I was better off than the kid in the bed next me who had the flu.

"Fine" is the response I give Charlie when I don't want to talk about my day because nothing even remotely interesting happened.

And here Angela was, telling Jessica she could look forward to being "fine."

It was a joke. I had two options: laugh like a hyena on Joker gas or burst into tears. In the end, I did both.

After I'd laughed myself stupid, I started to whimper. And then the tears came.

I'd cried quite a bit since my episode in the girls' bathroom, but never in front of anyone. Yet, here I was, with an audience of a confused but worried Angela and a suddenly sobbing Jessica. Maybe this sort of thing was contagious among hormonal teenage girls; I wouldn't really know as I'd never been much of the social butterfly.

Jessica matched me tear for tear. "I m-miss Mike. I love him. Why doesn't he love me?"

Angela opted to hug Jessica over me, either out of proximity or the fact she somehow knew I didn't want a Thelma and Louise moment of my own.

I felt like I should say something, to "fit in with the girls," so to speak, but I just cried quietly on my end of the couch while Jessica blubbered about losing Mike and how her dream of them going to prom together was now quashed.

My tears weren't for some boy who didn't want me—they were for me and my own fear of living a life that was never any better than "fine." I let them continue for a few more minutes before I realized I felt slightly lighter now that I'd let them out. My shoulders were less tense, and my breaths filled the hollow of my chest, filling the emptiness.

_Fine. _This is what it felt like. It wasn't terrible, though, which I guess is the literal definition of "fine." I suppose I could deal with this, if I had to.

Angela was watching me. Like Charlie, she was on Bella Hunger Watch, always pushing food at me at lunch and inexplicably bringing chocolate chip cookies to English an hour later to share with "everyone," even though I somehow always ended up with the lion's share. Keeping one arm around Jess's shaking form, she reached the other around to the coffee table and scooted the mostly empty tub of ice cream in my direction. I flashed her a watery half-smile but shook my head "no," instead re-opening the discarded bag of beef jerky. Female bonding wasn't as terrible as I'd imagined, but my quota on clichés had just been reached.

As I worked on digesting the rubbery, room-temperature meat, I noticed Jessica had stopped sobbing and was studying me expectantly. "Did you say something?" I asked, a loud gulp punctuating my question as I swallowed the jerky.

"How are you dealing with this?" She spoke hurriedly, probably because I was forcing her to repeat herself.

"With what?"

"Breaking up with someone. I mean, it blows, of course, but you're still upset…and it's been awhile, right?"

"A couple of months." She'd have to use the Jaws of Life to get anything out of me.

But Jessica was persistent, mostly because she was clueless as to what she was asking. "But how are you?"

"Better." I nodded to myself, as if granting my mouth permission to answer. "It gets better."

"Do you miss him?" I knew she was using me as a map, to guide her own path to Mike recovery. I wanted to tell her not to bother; I was taking the long, not-so-scenic route.

Instead, I said, "Terribly."

She took the melted ice cream from the table and lifted a dripping spoonful to her mouth. "At least you don't have to see him everyday. I swear, the sight of Mike's face makes me want to puke all over him."

I scoffed. "Yeah, lucky me." She was being unintentionally kind, ignoring the rumor mill for once and believing this was still about Jake.

On the television, the slasher film had ended, and the credits rolled by monotonously. Despite the thrashing heavy metal soundtrack that now filled Angela's living room, I felt oddly calm.

Even though I now had Edward and Jake on the brain.

I yawned, pushing both their faces out of the forefront of my mind. "I'm pretty beat, you guys." And I was; in fact, I was exhausted. "I have to work in the morning, so I'm turning in."

Angela nodded in agreement, but Jessica was far from tired. "Work," she repeated. "With Mike. Ugh. Tell him I said 'hi.' Or even better, tell him I said, 'rot in hell.'"

I sprawled out on the floor atop my sleeping bag. As I fluffed my pillow, I responded, "Will do, Jess."

X X X

I dreamt of him at night. I didn't want to, but I didn't exactly have a remote control to switch channels in my subconscious. Mostly, the dreams starred the cold, aloof stranger whom I'd only looked in the eyes once…but sometimes I dreamt of the old Edward, the one with the impeccable sarcastic wit and the off-center smirk. The hangover from those dreams hurt the most; once I woke up, I was mourning him all over again.

More and more, though, the pain only lasted through the morning. Except for English, I rarely saw him in person. Not that I looked. Or avoided looking. I just didn't _try. _Had he stood right in front of me, I'd see him, but, of course, he never did; we danced around each other. It was probably not even a conscious effort on his part, but I was striving so hard for indifference, even though it wasn't something that could be forced.

Sometimes, though, I felt like he was watching me.

A week after he'd seen me hug Mike in the hallway, I was sitting in English, munching on one of Angela's blasted cookies, when I noticed one of the crumbs had found its way to my sleeve, leaving a small dollop of chocolate in its wake. Not wanting to leave a stain, I lifted my arm to my mouth and sucked on the fabric, as if my saliva could somehow work just as well as Stainstick. The shirt was new, and I was a bit irked I'd managed to ruin it already, so I sucked pretty hard, making a slight whistling sound against the cotton. When I pulled my mouth away, exasperated that my nonsensical remedy hadn't worked, I could feel him. He was in class, just like always, but this time it was more than just his presence that set off warning bells in my head. My ears got hot; long ago, that had been a telltale sign that his eyes were roving over me. I rolled my eyes at my own misguided eagerness and went back to taking notes.

Later, I realized I was pissed off at myself for even thinking he was bothering to look at me. First, he wasn't watching me. Second, even if he was, it didn't mean anything. Finally, even if it did mean something, I didn't want it to. I didn't want him anywhere near me. And it had nothing to do with his vampire status or the fact he'd murdered actual human beings before, though those were certainly considerations; I just didn't want to see that inhumanly pretty face of his and get sucked into his web again.

Lying awake on Angela's living room floor, shrouded in darkness, my face still a little damp from my semi-tyrannical outburst, I told myself I was getting stronger. I was sobbing at weird, inappropriate times, but I felt better about myself. I ate three meals a day. I humored Charlie on Sunday afternoons with questions about the Mariners' chances this season. I was getting to be…fine.

I fell asleep easily within the next half hour, and when I awoke the next morning, that familiar feeling that something was missing was back, telling me Edward had made another unwelcome appearance in my dreams. I took a deep breath and unzipped my sleeping bag. He may pillage his way into my unconscious, but when it came to my waking life, I was pretty confident neither one of us wanted anything to do with the other.

X X X

"You busy tonight?" Mike asked off-handedly. I fixed my eyes onto the ceiling in order to keep them from rolling out of my head.

"Jessica says 'hi," I responded, just as casually. "Or technically, she said something involving you decomposing in hell, but the sentiment was still there."

He groaned and locked up the cash register. Business had been slow for a Saturday, but that didn't stop him from finding extra little chores for us to do around the store so I couldn't skip out early like Mrs. Newton had told me I could at the beginning of my shift.

I whisked the broom across the floor, enjoying the sound of the bristles hitting the tile. "I think she misses you."

I was probably breaking some rule in the Girl Code by voicing Jessica's feelings, but I didn't care; I needed him off my back. Ever since the hugging incident, Mike had been my shadow, guidance counselor, and social planner all rolled into one. I had it coming, but still—this needed to stop. And fast.

"She's crazy. Like hide-in-the-bushes, watch-me-while-I-sleep crazy."

I sighed. "She just likes you a lot."

"She made me a CD for Valentine's Day with that _Every Move You Make_ song on it."

"Hey, a lot of people think the Police are romantic..." I replied, not able to keep the doubt out of my voice.

"'Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you?' That doesn't scare the crap out of you?" Mike asked, both incredulous and disgusted.

I could only shrug. "I guess it depends on who's doing the watching."

Mike blanched and moved to shut out the lights.

I ignored his foul mood and continued, "I mean, Jessica isn't some psycho; she really just wants you to be into her. You shouldn't punish her just because she's not the best at interpreting song lyrics."

"Whatever." He opened the door. "C'mon. This place is depressing me."

I shoved the broom in the utility closet and followed him out the door.

"Want me to walk you to your car? It's getting dark—" Mike stopped suddenly, looking at something over my shoulder with an intense scowl.

"Wha—" Finishing the word became unnecessary when I saw what Mike was fixated on.

Leaning against my truck was a figure I hardly recognized. He was unnaturally tall, with black, buzzed hair and a cocky smirk on his face. His fingers drummed expectantly against the roof of my truck, and his legs stretched out lazily in front of him.

"Jake?"

"The one and only, Bells."

His confidence unnerved me. We hadn't seen each other in months, not since I'd hammered the proverbial nail into the coffin of our brittle relationship, and now he studied me as if he didn't loathe me to the core. Even stranger, a light danced in his eyes that seemed to suggest he expected me to rejoice at his sudden reappearance.

"You alright, Bella?" Mike was standing at my side. Still. And too close.

"Yeah, Mike. It's cool. I'll see you at school Monday."

"Uh, okay." He backed away from us, sizing up Jake's massive frame with a dubious but slightly intimidated expression.

I waited for Mike to disappear completely before I spoke again. "What are you doing here?"

Jacob shrugged and continued to stare at me with an uncomfortable intensity. He reached his hand into his pocket and withdrew something, enclosing it in his fist. His eyes continued to pierce into mine as he lifted his fist in the air and released it, sending a glinting silver chain swinging from his palm. As soon as I spotted a small, green orb dangling from the chain, I knew. My necklace.

Jake cocked an eyebrow. "We need to talk."

I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I shoved them awkwardly into my back pockets. "'kay. What's…up?"

"I'm not doing this in the middle of the street, Bells. Can we go somewhere?"

"Sure."

He moved to climb into my truck, but I shook my head immediately. "You take your car. I'll follow." He was making me nervous, though I couldn't put a finger on exactly why. Aside from the obvious rift between us, he kept staring at my face like he was trying to manipulate some unknown emotion out of me.

"I didn't drive here." He stood up straight. His height had to be mere hairs under seven feet. I'd have to do a running jump just to touch his chin.

"Holy hell, Jake! You're enormous. What _happened _to you?"

He smirked again. The arrogance twisted his face, his features morphing into an ugly unfamiliarity. "I grew up."

I tried to mask my discomfort, but I knew he saw right through me. I dug my keys out of my jacket pocket and walked toward him. He didn't move aside so I could open the driver's side door.

"Um, I need to—"

He moved finally and opened the door for me.

"Uh, thanks."

"Anytime," he breathed, his face a good foot and a half above mine. Still, he was too close.

I settled into my seat, and by the time I had the key turned in the ignition, Jake had effortlessly hopped in the truck bed and then over to the passenger side. Unapologetically, he jerked the door open and then slammed it behind him as he eased himself into the seat.

"Where are we going?" I asked in what should have been a breezy voice. Instead, the phrase came out uneasy and strangled.

"First Beach. The moon's out tonight." He laughed at his words, but I couldn't understand what he found so amusing.

I drove south on the 101, trying not to gawk at his gargantuan body; Jake was an ominous, Stretch Armstrong version of his former self.

For fourteen miles, we didn't talk. Not once. There was nothing to say, at least on my end. This was his show, and he seemed strangely at ease with the silence.

First Beach was bathed in moonlight, as Jake predicted. As soon as the truck pulled to a halt, he was out and moving to the shoreline. All I could do was follow.

I wrapped my arms around my upper body to keep out the cold. I wore a thermal henley, a lamb's wool sweater, and a down jacket but was still freezing Jake, in a short-sleeved t-shirt, moved to the water and splashed it with his calves, sending droplets of water into the cotton of his frayed sweatpants.

I hunched on an uprooted tree, at the edge of the beach, where sand met crunchy blades of dead grass and frozen earth. I could only wait; I had no idea where to begin conversation.

Eventually, Jake turned, walked toward me, and knelt at my feet. His eyes were the one part of him that were physically the same; they were still the color of textured mud, but the emotion playing behind them had changed.

"You look like hell, Bells."

"You look like an Amazonian, Jake."

"I've missed you."

"You shouldn't."

He merely scoffed and curled his lips into that alien sneer that I was beginning to detest. "Look at me."

"I _am_ looking at you."

He gripped my face. His hands, the temperature of blazing embers, were unwelcome against my flushed cheeks. "No. _Really _look at me."

We were so close that he had to move his irises back and forth to meet both of my eyes. Left. Right. Left. Right. He kept searching, and the desperate frustration that crept into his face told me he wasn't finding whatever it was he was seeking.

He bit his lip and muttered, "Goddammit." His hands were on his forehead, and he hid his eyes from me. "_God. Damn. It._"

I wanted to grab his face so I could decipher what he was trying to tell me, but even if I could have looked him in the eye, there were no easy answers playing on his expression. I didn't have to see him to know that whatever was going down was something I couldn't understand. For lack of nothing else to say, I verbalized the obvious. "Jake, I don't get what you want from me. What's going on with you? Are you okay?"

I was crying. Again. God damn it indeed.

"Do you feel…different?"

"Different?" I felt like hell, but that was nothing new. So, no, I didn't feel different. "I feel…the same? Jake, what—you wanted to talk about something?"

He drew his palms into the ground. He found only sand and chucked a fistful into the wind. "I—I don't feel it."

"Feel _what_? Jacob, what's going on?"

His eyes, wide and searching, wouldn't pry themselves away from my face. "I love you. Still. Of course."

I didn't love him. Still. Of course.

But I couldn't exactly tell him that. I wanted to say that I missed him. That I was lonely. That I wanted him back in my life. But I knew everything I felt was rooted in selfishness and desperation. So, in order to keep Jake safe, I said nothing at all.

Instead, I ran my hands across the harsh stubble budding out of his scalp. The ghost of the lush silkiness that used to meet my touch haunted my fingertips. "You cut your hair."

He closed his eyes, and moisture spilled from his lashes, betraying him. We sat still for what could have been hours but what were probably minutes, silent and confused.

Finally, he opened his mouth. Squeaky, reluctant words poured out. "Are you…do you still hang around with…_them_?"

Jake kept shielding his face from me. "Them? Them who?"

"The _Cullens_."

My heart stopped. Literally—it just refused to move for at least five beats. Bile reached my taste buds. My nostrils flared involuntarily. "No."

"Good." He let his face turn up, meeting my gaze with unabashed fury.

It wasn't good. It wasn't fine. It wasn't okay. I missed every second of Edward Cullen's presence. His face. His voice. His hands, the way they "accidentally" brushed against my skin. His soul. Everything I wanted to believe had been real. I missed it all. And my exile from him—it had been anything but "good."

"Don't say that."

"Say what?" Jake's voice, hard and biting, wasn't his own.

The animosity in his face scared me. I tightened my arms around myself. Self-preservation told me not to say it. So I didn't. "Nothing. Nevermind."

"Say. What." Jake's jaw was clenched, and his muscles were so unavoidably prominent now that I couldn't stop staring at the bulges they made from under his russet skin.

"Don't tear them apart, Jake." I didn't know what I was doing. But I couldn't let him push this on the Cullens. On Alice. On the version of Edward Cullen I loved. Fictitious as it was, I wouldn't let Jake's inexplicable hatred mar the beauty of what I'd once felt, as it was the best part of my isolated, turbulent eighteen years. "Don't blame him…for what happened between you and me." I breathed in the heady air. Fog swirled around us like an unwelcome, premature curtain call.

"They are _disgusting. _They are everything that comes to you in your nightmares. They are everything that ruined you and me. They _stole _you. From me. They ruined us, Bells." Jake was crying, but his tears didn't make him human. Rather, he was enraged, and I no longer saw my Jacob. My best friend. My first and only boyfriend. Now, he was a stranger, fierce and foreign and furious. And I wanted to run. Really, I did. But I couldn't move. All I could do was watch him. His body shook, and despite his massive size, he succumbed to whatever demons haunted him. "He. Did this. To us. Bells, don't you _see_?"

I leaned back, away from his insistent face. He kept invading my personal space, and the log I sat upon became more and more emaciated as I looked for support to shrink away from Jake's fury. "No, Jacob. _I _did this. Me. No one else."

"God," he muttered, "You're exactly the same. Sweet. Naïve. I love you for that." He rested his forehead against mine and cupped my cheeks with his oversized hands. The new proximity told me he even _smelled_ different; woodsy, the scent of earth and nature and a calm I didn't welcome.

"No—Jake, you don't love me. Please stop pretending things are like they used to be." I was only exacerbating the loneliness that plagued me, but I had no choice. I couldn't pretend anymore; I couldn't lie to myself and let Jake try to fill the voids in my life. He could never fill them; he was and always had been a friend, nothing more. I didn't love him. I needed him, but not like he wanted me to need him.

"Baby, if you knew what I know—" He slammed a fist into the sand. "I wanted to tell you sooner, as soon as I found out. I want to tell you now. But I can't. I'm sorry." He watched me closely, willing me to try to read his mind. "And I've wanted to see you, but I couldn't. Everything's such a mess. Great, in a way, but also just a huge mess."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been trying to get to you for weeks, but I wasn't allowed to leave La Push for awhile. And then Sam said I couldn't go to your house, so I found a loophole and met you at work." He grinned, though his eyes looked troubled.

"Wait—_Sam _told you that you couldn't come see me?"

Jake shrugged and looked down the shoreline into the darkness. "Things are different now. I was wrong about him before. The thing with Paul. All of it. I didn't get it."

"Well, I _still _don't get it, so why don't you fill me in?" His crypticness was wearing heavily on my nerves. Jake dragged me to a deserted beach in the freezing cold with the promise of us talking, but he was only spouting out riddles.

"I can't." He wrapped his hands around mine. I wasn't necessarily looking for physical contact, but I was also shivering, so I didn't pull away.

"Why?"

"I just can't. I'm sorry."

"So what exactly did you bring me here for, then? What did you want to tell me?"

He swallowed and continued to search the darkness. "I had to see something."

"See _what_?" I was practically shouting, the frustration now overwhelming me.

"I'm different now, Bella. I thought…I thought the way you feel about me might change."

I withdrew my hands from his and buried them back into my pockets. I was crying _again_ as the guilt besieged me. Jake was making me break his heart all over again. "Nothing's changed, Jake. I mean, you look a lot…older? But, I can't make myself feel something I don't."

He stood and kicked his massive foot into the frozen ground. It crumpled to his will, sending sand and dirt into the frigid air.

"It's not like I don't care about you…but I don't love you. Like that. I'm still sorry, but—"

"Just save it," he snapped.

"I do miss you."

"I don't want to hear it."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other. I was shivering and craved the warmth of the cab of my truck, but, even though there was nothing left to say, I got the feeling Jake was still holding something back.

Five minutes later, he proved me right. "You have to stay away from him."

Edward. This was still about him. I wanted to return to my bitter hysteria from the night before, but instead I tried to keep my voice even as I said, "No problem there, I assure you."

Jake knew me eerily well, so he immediately recognized the bitterness in my tone. "What did he do to you?" The old Jacob would have been concerned, but this new super-sized version was irate and seething.

"Nothing."

"What did that bl—what did he do to you?" Too many of Jake's teeth were showing. He looked almost feral.

"Nothing! We're not friends anymore. Relax."

"And that _bothers_ you? You should be grateful that bastard isn't in your life."

Jake knew so much about me, but he didn't know what—who—had once been the best and worst part of my life. And he needed to. In order to allow him to move on, I would have to tell him the unedited truth, the exact information I'd tried to keep from him the first time I stomped on his heart.

Before I could say anything, Jake spoke. "I can't tell you…something, Bella. But you have to know that Edward Cullen is not someone you want to be around. You have to promise me that you won't—"

"You've been spending time with Sam." I made my deductions out loud. "You now have a seething hatred for the Cullens. And you want me to stay away from them."

He nodded, boring his enraged eyes into me.

He knew.

Of course he knew. I felt so stupid for not realizing it earlier.

I embraced the weird and just said it. "Does this have anything to do with vampires?"

Jake's jaw unhinged, and all he could do was gawk at me. Finally, his mouth snapped shut, and he closed the space between us. "You _knew_?"

I nodded, a bit scared by being in the shadow of his hulking frame. He was still Jake, but now he was also someone else. My Jacob had turned into someone cold and hostile who was capable of pure hatred. The change both saddened and terrified me.

"You knew, and you didn't say anything to me?! Did he tell you what he was?"

I wouldn't drag Leah down with me, so I replied, "I just figured it out."

"When?" He grabbed my shoulders and shook me a little. He wasn't hurting me, but to an outsider, it would appear differently.

Lies couldn't save us now, as there was nothing left to save. "The night you and I broke up. Right before, actually."

Jake wasn't expecting that answer. He dropped his hands to his sides, and for a second, it was the end of us all over again. His face was exactly the same as it had been when I'd first torn us apart, hurt and lost and confused. And then all the familiarity was gone, and the new Jake took over. He snorted in air through flared nostrils and practically spat it back out through his mouth. His shoulders trembled a little, but I was more focused on the pulsating slits where his eyes used to be.

I tried to back up, but he wouldn't have it, grabbing my shoulders again and bending down to look me square in the eye. "What happened? Tell me. All of it."

"He told me we couldn't be friends anymore. Because I knew. Because he said he was too dangerous."

"And he was fucking right."

"Don't." I leaned into him, refusing to let him intimidate me. "He's no more dangerous than you and I are."

Right into my face, Jake scoffed. "So he tells you to stay away from him, so you decide to dump me?"

He hadn't yet managed to connect the dots, but it was only a matter of time. So I did it for him. "I didn't love you. I loved him."

Jake didn't move. He didn't breathe or blink or stagger. He just froze.

I only watched him, my face expressionless. I owed him the truth. I felt no different now that it had spilled out, as I'd lived with what I'd done to him for months; the pain was nothing new. I hoped the ugliness of what I'd done to him would help him move on. I prayed he didn't feel like a fool; he'd done nothing wrong. But I knew that my optimism was ignorant and selfish.

He was moving now, trembling with more fervor. His eyes focused on the sand, wide and full of hate and suffering. His neck jerked his head forward and then back, as if he were about to vomit. Something was…wrong. Abnormally so.

"Jake? Are—" The shaking increased, and I watched in horror as his muscles began to tremor as if they were about to rip out of his skin. "Are you having a seizure?"

"G-go! Bella, _run_!"

"I'm not leaving you here! I can take you to the hosp—" I stopped when I saw his pants begin to rip, revealing the hair on his thighs. The hair. Lots of it. Too, too much, at least for a human.

"Jesus, Jake! What's going on?"

His body lurched into an upside down U-shape, his hands raking through the sand while his feet stretched to the tips of his toes. More hair was sprouting from _everywhere. _His face, his forearms, his back, which was now visible through his suddenly shredded t-shirt. The fabric hung limp against his engorged body, now completely coated with a thick russet mane of hair.

He tried to speak to me, but it came out as a guttural, beastly growl rather than as coherent words.

Of their own volition, my feet backed up, lifting themselves over the log I'd sat on moments before.

But I wasn't fast enough. The thing that used to be Jake lunged forward, its teeth bared and ferociously dripping with saliva.

I started to sprint. It was stupid and pointless, but my logic had succumbed to my biological flight response.

Right before I fell to the cold, hard sand, I felt sharp points pierce the skin of my back. I screamed, or at least I think I did. The sharpness tore at my flesh as I face-planted into the ground. The pressure was worse now that I was flat on my stomach; the thing was standing on top of me, digging out pieces of skin with its claws.

"Please, stop!" I whimpered. "Jake, if you're in there, please _stop_!"

He--or it--didn't.

I knew if I tried to push myself up, the thing would crush me. I chose to save my easily breakable bones over my flesh and clung to the chilly sand beneath me as the claws burrowed in deeper. I felt wetness seep slowly down my sides. I gagged when I smelt the air and realized I was bleeding.

After a few seconds, easily the longest of my life, I heard a growl. It came from further up the beach rather than from the monster above me.

The growl grew closer. I nearly had a heart attack as I saw a second beast galloping down the shore, headed directly for me. If I'd had more time to process my thoughts, I would have wondered what my obituary would list as my cause of death.

The new creature was easily the size of a Clydesdale, with black hair and, just like the thing ripping me apart, an equally terrifying set of teeth. It was like a wolf, but larger, ghastlier.

It lunged at the thing on my back, sending both of them off of me and onto the sand. I nervously tried to move, sure that I was paralyzed, but found I could crawl with relative ease; miraculously, nothing seemed to be broken, other than the once-smooth flesh running the length of my back.

I crawled toward the brush lining the beach. Hiding was futile, but I had no other options. I bit down on my tongue as I tried to stand. Somehow I managed to rise to my feet, feeling as if my skin would peel off in pieces if I stood completely erect. My truck was parked up the hill. I'd never make it, but I had to try. I heard the two horse-monster-wolves snarling behind me, preoccupied with each other.

The hill was steep. I panted and winced as I climbed, stumbling over and over. I wasn't even halfway up when a hulking human form cut off my path.

I screamed. Or screeched. I couldn't be certain; my pulse hammered in my eardrums, blocking the sound of my own voice.

"I'm here to help you. Calm down," a deep baritone called out to me.

I squinted through the night. A man moved toward me. "Run!" I choked out. "There are…animals down there. They're dangerous."

"You're going to be fine," the shadow told me. "We need to get you inside."

At once, the man was at my side. He was huge, like Jake. "I'm Paul. You're Jake's girl, right?"

I groaned, wanting to examine the carnage on my back, but knowing if I touched it, I'd likely pass out.

The man cleared his throat and squinted until he could recall my name. "Bella? Jake's Bella?"

The blood pouring out of my body was making me queasy and my skin stung as if it were simultaneously on fire and being stabbed by a thousand daggers. Yet, the stranger's words hurt more. "No," I breathed, ready to pass out in defeat. "Just Bella."

He stood right next to me now. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I groaned. "I'm fine."


	29. Scarred

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Scarred**

The fabric of my jacket hung in tatters, and portions of my clothing underneath were erratically threadbare. I could feel strips of nylon hanging loosely down my thighs along with what was likely the frayed wool of my sweater, flapping in the wind and exposing my shredded skin to the frigid, late-winter air.

The cold was compounded by the pain. Every twitch of my upper body caused a prickling, stinging sensation to shoot from the torn flesh covering my spine. The nauseating coolness of blood trickled down from each gash in individual, streaming currents before meeting at the small of my back and seeping to the waistband of my jeans. Nothing was broken, of that I was certain, but the absence of cracked bones couldn't erase the unbearable urge to either throw up or pass out, or perhaps both in rapid succession.

"I need to carry you, Bella," Paul muttered impatiently at my side, as if given any other choice, he'd take it in a heartbeat.

I was panicked and wanted out of there as fast as possible, but I didn't want him-or anyone else- to touch me. "I can walk; I'm fine."

"I think everything's okay now, but we need to move fast, just in case." He turned his back to me and hunched over. "Hop on."

I wasn't a five-year-old with a stubbed toe, so I sighed and responded, "I think I can make it to my truck; it's parked at the top of the hill. But you're going to have to drive me to the hospital." For some reason, I'd always been able to smell blood, and the scent wafting from the fresh lacerations on my back twisted my heaving stomach into knots and put me on the verge of passing out. I was not in any condition to drive, as doing so would lead to further, inevitable disaster.

I staggered past Paul, cringing as my hands roved my pockets for my keys. I yanked them out and reached out for Paul to take them. In response, Paul's back stiffened as he ignored my request and repeated, through clenched teeth, "Hop. On."

He didn't seemed concerned or remotely shocked about the presence of massive, mutant beasts roaming freely on the nearby beach, which told me he probably knew what was going on. In a healthier mind frame, I would have been irritated at his refusal to explain the insanity around us, but right now I could only focus on the overbearing sense of nausea and searing ache stemming from my bleeding back

I sucked in a shaky breath and attempted to climb onto the wide expanse of Paul's back, but the tearing of skin stopped me cold. Paul didn't bother putting on the appearance of sympathy to soothe me; instead, he carefully lifted me from the base of my knees, keeping my back upright, and held me against him by gripping my lower thighs and pressing my chest against his. My upper body was straight but not as steady as it should have been in order to abate some of the pain. I drew in slow, measured portions of air, trying to keep myself calm. The close proximity forced me to take in Paul's scent as I breathed, and I swallowed uneasily as I realized he smelled just like Jake, woodsy, the aroma of pine and earth rather than a human odor along the lines of soap or sweat.

Paul started to run, heading through the edge of the forest bordering the highway, taking me further and further into the night, away from my truck.

"Where are we going? I need to go to the hospital!" I demanded, trying to not to feel intimidated by the fact that Paul traveled at an abnormal speed, never panting or seeming bothered by the added burden of my weight.

"Quiet," he responded gruffly.

I shut my mouth. I didn't want to give up so easily, but nothing that had happened in the past twenty minutes made any sense; things I never used to question, such as my safety in Jake's company, were now obliterated, making me uncertain of everything, including Paul. Also, the cold and the pain were consuming me, and I had to choose my battles carefully in order to preserve my strength. Resigned, I closed my eyes, my head bobbing up and down against the thin, surprisingly warm fabric of Paul's t-shirt.

I must have passed out, because when I re-opened my eyes, I was lying on my stomach on a couch. Though my body was still, the biting ache of my sliced back remained. The backside of my sweater and undershirt were pulled up, and as my hand drifted to the small of my back, I felt tape and gauze where I should have come in direct contact with ragged flesh. Someone had covered me with an afghan, but I was still shivering. Wincing, I lifted my upper body, resting my weight on my elbows. My movement did not go unnoticed.

"Bella? Bella, can you hear me?" Harry Clearwater hurried to my side and crouched next to the couch, his face a portrait of anxiety.

"Yeah..." My eyes adjusted to the soft light of the Clearwaters' living room, and I discovered my agony had an audience. Sam Uley sat upright in an armchair across the room, his face swathed in shadows. Embry Call stood rigidly at his side, resembling a member of the royal guard flanking his king.

All of them watched me in calculated silence, exacerbating my already unbearable discomfort. My head was spinning less as I eased into complete consciousness, and I suddenly recognized that the setting was all wrong. "I need to go to the hospital," I announced shakily. Surely, someone should have come to that conclusion already. "It...stings. Why...why am I still _here_?"

They stared at me with their mouths drawn into hard, thin lines, as if I had spoken in hysterics, striking them with nonsensical words. Without allowing it to, my brain flashed back to the beach, to the moment Jake's skin turned to fur. I thought of the claws where there were once fingertips, the violence where I used to find only compassion. I remembered the digging of those claws into my flesh, the piercing, the tearing, the blood.

_The blood._

My stomach lurched as my memory became a reality; despite the bandages, I could still smell the scent of salt and rust forcing its way in through my nostrils. Before I could stop it, I vomited onto the Clearwaters' well-worn carpeting. A saner Bella would have apologized; but right now, I was banking on reason to save me from dealing with the horrifying absurdity I'd just endured. Rationality would save me tonight; hysterics would only take me backward, propelling me back into the terrified, weak little girl who let the world stomp all over her.

Again, I asked, my voice not as strong as I'd hoped it would be, "Why am I here? When are we going to the ER?"

Finally, someone answered me. Sam, head now in his hands, muttered, "We're still weighing our options."

Harry's eyes darted nervously to Sam before he turned his gaze back to mine and smiled diffidently. "We'll get you help, honey. You'll be fine. We just need a little time to work things out."

I felt groggy, but their cryptic nonchalance about my well-being was quickly stirring me into consciousness. The questions came without hesitation; I wouldn't let Sam silence my concerns about my own health. "Where's Charlie? How long was I out? What's going on?" I moved to stand, but Harry's hand came down on my trembling but unwounded shoulder and gently pushed me back into the couch cushions.

"You can't go to the hospital. Trust me when I say you're better off here." In the dim light, I could only see Sam's mouth as he spoke; the upper half of his face, including his eyes, was shrouded in darkness. He spoke too calmly to convince me of his sympathy, the lack of panic in his voice only raising goose bumps on my arms and perpetuating my own anxiety.

"Trust me when I say I'm _not_." My eyes narrowed on him. Even as I breathed, the rise and fall of my ribcage caused the gapes in my skin to stretch and burn from under my shoulder blades, as if my tissue had been subjected to a molten-hot cheese grater. I refused to suffer without an explanation. "I need to call my father. It's late, and he doesn't know where I am."

Sam sighed. In a pained voice that betrayed his indifferent exterior, he muttered, "I know. We're just trying to figure this out."

Not giving up, I stated the obvious, tears creeping out of my eyelids. "I need help." I was starting to feel like a prisoner being held against my will. Coupled with the fiery sensation coming from my clawed-up skin, the feeling of helplessness they were forcing upon me was almost too much. Weakly, I begged, "Please let me go."

Harry averted his eyes to the carpet. "Bella, I know this is all a bit overwhelming, but we're tying to find a solution that's best for everyone. Including Jacob. We have a lot of bases to cover."

Once, I'd felt safe and at home in La Push. Now, I felt like the walls were closing in on me; these people were no longer my extended family, they were my wardens. "I need a doctor; my back is _shredded_! I can't stay here."

"She's right." A female voice sounded from beyond the doorframe. Leah stood with her arm linked with another girl whom I barely recognized. The girl's face would have been strikingly beautiful if not for three discolored, raised lines striping her skin, from her forehead to her chin, distorting the shape of her right eye and warping one corner of her mouth into an involuntary frown. The marks looked somewhat fresh, not quite scabbed but not yet scars. She leaned on Leah for support, as if too weak to rely on her own two feet.

Sam, in the glint of a nanosecond, rose to his feet and closed the space between himself and the doorway.

"I told you to keep her safe, Leah. She should be in bed. Christ, can't you do _anything _right?"

Leah's eyes ignited with volcanic disdain. "She insisted we come here. And I'm a big fan of freewill, _Sam_," she spat out his name with pointed fury, "so I couldn't refuse her."

Sam turned his eyes to the girl, whom I now recognized as Leah's cousin from the beach who had once comforted Leah from behind a flawless, unmarred complexion. "Em," Sam said gently, cupping her distorted face in his immense palms, "what are you doing here? You should be resting."

"Sam," she spoke quietly and urgently, her words the half-hearted hiss of a wounded kitten, "you need to take her to a hospital. Please. For me."

"There's too much risk, Emily. You know who'll be there. We can't take that chance. For both her and for us. It's just not safe."

"I don't want her to have complications. We both know how painful things could get if we wait too long, if she gets an infection." She stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes, and I watched as his callousness crumbled as he bent to her will.

Resting his forehead against hers, Sam exhaled and whispered, "I know, I know. I'll make this right, Em."

Leah refused to look up from the floor as her hollow voice suggested, "We can take her to Port Angeles. We can make something up about an animal attack or something in the woods."

"We've gone that route before," Harry mused, eyes darting to Sam's Emily, who cowered, exhausted, in Sam's daunting silhouette. I couldn't help but stare at Leah, standing stoic and immobilized mere inches from the man she'd once been inseparable from.

Sam shook his head, never turning away from the frail girl hovering against him. "Which is why we can't do it again. No one will believe-"

"We don't have a choice, Sam," Embry interrupted carefully. "Jake will never forgive us if we don't do everything we can for her."

Sam nodded as Leah said, "I can drive her. If I speed, we can make it in a little over an hour. Mom said the cuts looked skin-deep; I think she only has to worry about scarring."

I darted my eyes around the room for signs of Sue Clearwater but found none. I felt like I was in the middle of a meeting for some sort of secret society, minus the hooded cloaks, burning candles, and ritualistic chanting.

I realized I didn't even know how much time had passed between whatever had happened on the beach and waking up on the Clearwaters' couch. "How long?" I croaked out. They all jerked their heads in my direction. "How long was I out?"

"Forty-five minutes. An hour, tops." Embry watched me cautiously. I understood then that they were all waiting for the moment when I snapped. Jake had morphed into..._something. _Something not human. And this didn't seem to come as a surprise to any of them. More than anything, they seemed to want to hide whatever had just happened, not dwell in the shock of it.

"Bella, can you walk?" Leah asked, not bothering to even glance at me.

I moved off of my elbows to a seated position; regardless of how I arranged my body, the searing pain remained at the same level of intensity: not quite unbearable but nowhere near the point where it could be ignored. When I rose to my feet, I winced but managed to shuffle across the room, shaking off Harry's and Embry's offers to help, as I wanted nothing from any of them other than a means out of La Push.

Leah finally lifted her eyes to appraise my face. "Are you going to be able to manage until we get to Port Angeles?"

I furrowed my brow. "What's wrong with Forks? I've been to that hospital a million times and always been treated just fine." I spoke in a biting tone and felt a bit guilty for directing it at Leah, since my problem was more with Sam than anyone else. He seemed to be in charge, the reason for my delayed departure from the reservation.

"Forks isn't possible; it's not safe," Sam barked. "You should be able to figure out why, considering the company you keep."

I blinked several times, my mind completely blank, before I remembered the source of Billy's long-term and Jake's new-found animosity and put the pieces together. "The company I _kept_," I corrected Sam before adding, "Dr. Cullen has always been an excellent doctor."

Sam snorted. "When he finds out what Jake is, I doubt he'll be so accommodating."

"And _what _exactly is Jake?" I swallowed at my words, both petrified of and desperate for Sam's response.

Refusing to waver from his cryptic stubbornness, Sam only said, "Right now, we need to worry about getting you treatment." As I opened my mouth to object, Sam amended, "The right kind of treatment. From a human being; not one of _them_."

I braced my arm against the doorframe and fought off a wave of pain. "Maybe if you'd explain things to me, I'd be a bit more understanding, but as it stands, I don't have any idea what's going on. I want to call Charlie, and I want to go to the hospital in Forks."

Sam's fists clenched as Embry made his way to my side. Turning back to Sam, he said, "I can go with her to Port Angeles. Do you want me-can I explain...?"

Sam closed his eyes and inhaled several times before responding, "Given what she's seen, just tell her. Whatever's going on in her head is probably just as bad as the truth, if not worse."

Embry moved toward me but hesitated briefly as he made eye contact with Sam. "They'll find out eventually."

My forehead wrinkled out of confusion, but no one paid me any attention.

"Yes, but I refuse to let it happen like this." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam continued to look pained as he continued, "Go."

Embry offered me his arm, and this time I accepted, though I refused to look at his face. Like Jake, he'd transformed into a completely different person since the last time I'd seen him: bigger, cockier, and menacing in a way I couldn't wrap my head around.

As we turned to leave, Sam left Emily's side and reached out for Leah's arm, the ampleness of his palm encasing her delicate elbow. Quietly, he murmured, "I'm sorry about earlier. I just worry about her-"

Emily ducked her head, appearing ashamed.

Leah refused to look at either of them as she jerked free of Sam's grasp. "I get it. It's fine."

"I really am-"

"Save it." Her lips twisted into a grimace and her eyes drained themselves of emotion. Before Sam could take in the full weight of her reaction, Leah turned on her heel and walked out the door.

Embry and I followed Leah to her Civic, where I opted to lie down on my stomach across the backseat as Leah and Embry rode up front.

As soon as the doors slammed shut, I cleared my throat. As vehemently as I could muster through the pain, I asked, "Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Leah threw the car into reverse, jerking us backward out of the driveway and into the road. I braced my upper body with my arms to ensure my sensitive backside didn't touch the back of the seat. I managed to avoid contact, but the sudden movement pained me nonetheless.

I called on every bit of strength I had to not pass out so I could get answers. I didn't plan on seeing any of the Quileutes again after I was free of their inexplicable imprisonment of me, so I knew now was my only chance.

"Where's...Paul?" I wanted to ask about Jacob, but something about the cold silence of the vehicle told me to test the waters first.

"Paul's with Jake," Embry said unevenly.

"Are they okay?" The possibility Jake might not even be alive was too petrifying to voice aloud.

"They're both fine."

"How...?"

"Jake can take a lot. You don't need to worry about him."

I hated to admit it, but Embry was right. I still loved Jake, albeit as a friend, and I was terrified for him, but he wasn't mine to worry about anymore; I had no leverage from which to demand answers. To distract myself from the emotional turmoil that realization cost me, I let my hand return to my bandaged back, focusing on the physical ache of my bleeding flesh.

As I allowed the stabbing throbs to seep into the forefront of my mind, I almost fainted again, but I couldn't let myself give up. I was petrified and barely coherent, but I didn't have a choice other than pushing through the hurt; I needed answers. I opened my mouth, ignoring the dryness of my throat, and breathed out the key question. "What was the thing that swallowed up Jake? On the beach?"

Embry closed his eyes and leaned against the headrest. "How much do you know about Quileute legends, Bella?"

I could only sigh and say, "Just spit it out, Embry."

I watched his bicep move as he lifted his hand to rub his jaw. "We're descended from wolves. For centuries, wolves have been the protectors of our tribe-"

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy, Embry," Leah interjected, her tone hovering between groaning and growling, "spare us the history lesson and just tell her."

"It doesn't make any sense if I just go right into it."

"It doesn't make sense no matter how you approach it. Anyway, she knows about the bloodsuckers; the girl's already had a crash course in crazy."

Embry's grip tightened against the console separating his seat from Leah's, the plastic cracking minutely under the tips of his fingers. "Jake's a wolf, Bella."

I waited for him to continue so I could verify that he was speaking in the metaphorical sense, but Embry just watched the road fly by through the condensation-laden windshield and kept his mouth drawn shut.

"That's...not possible." I'd seen it with my own eyes, Jake's transformation into something subhuman, but I _knew_ him. He was a boy. A kid. Once, he'd been my best friend. He was gentle and kind and _human. _I'd kissed him, hugged him, held his hand. His heart thumped as mine did. Despite what I'd seen in the last two hours, I wouldn't believe he was anything but the boy I'd once called my Jacob.

"Not just any wolf," Leah sneered indignantly. "A _were_wolf."

"Funny," I shot back, though I sounded anything but amused. "Hilarious. And I'm the Bride of Frankenstein." My voice shook, weakening the impact of my desperate sarcasm. I'd seen too much, and experienced even more, to wallow in full-on denial, though that certainly didn't stop me from trying.

"No joke," Embry said simply as he pivoted in his seat to face me.

I could only shake my head, because there was no way I was living in this horrific, nightmarishly cinematic world. Something must have happened to me to make all of this imaginary madness seem real. Maybe I never woke up from that coma two Januarys ago; maybe I was a vegetable somewhere, playing unrealistic scenarios over and over in my irreparably damaged brain as a means of entertainment. That possibility was insurmountably better than living a reality where Jake shared his body with a violent monster.

"Bella," Embry whispered, "for real. It's insane, I know, but it's real."

In a hoarse murmur, even though I knew better, I answered, "No."

"Yes." Leah's voice didn't waver, but I could hear the anguish underscoring her tone.

"No; Jake's _Jake_. Not some mangy, rabid animal. He's going to have a nice, normal life. He's going to be happy. This isn't supposed to happen to him." Whatever it was wasn't supposed to happen to anyone, not in the universe I used to live in, where vampires and werewolves were relegated to horror films and Jake was the single constant I turned to for normalcy. But for awhile now, I'd known not to take anything for granted, and I suppose, as utterly bizarre as it was, that included Jacob's humanity.

As hard as I tried to quash it, the lesions on my back would not be ignored. Around me, the car was getting warmer and warmer. The heat, the small space, and the overpowering stench of blood proved to be too much. My stomach churned, and I vomited over the edge of the seat, onto the floor mats.

Leah groaned, and I gave up my fight temporarily, letting unconsciousness overtake me.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up again the windows were down and Embry nervously asked me if I was alright. I only snorted bitterly in response. We rode the rest of the way to Port Angeles in silence, with me ignoring Embry's attempts to lure me back into conversation and Leah disregarding us both. Once we arrived at Olympic Medical Center, Embry did all the talking.

The story was ludicrous, though not nearly as preposterous as the truth. I'd had dinner with Jake and his friends in Port Angeles, to "reconnect" as Embry put it, before we decided to go for a hike on the outskirts of town, along the base of the Olympic mountain range, where we'd come across a bear and her cub. The others managed to run clear of the territorial grizzly, but I'd tripped and she'd caught me with her claws as she'd forced me to the ground. Eventually, Jake managed to come along and distract it, allowing me to escape. He'd been hurt a bit, though nothing worthy of a trip to the ER, so he'd gone home immediately to nurse his wounds.

"And why is Jake the hero in this scenario?" I'd asked Embry under my breath once the nurse had stepped out in search of more peroxide.

"If he's not, you're dad will never forgive him for getting you into this mess, even if it was just an accident."

"So what's the problem?"

"Bella..."

"Don't 'Bella' me, Embry."

"Then don't pull a Leah and let bitterness eat away at your judgment."

I did my best to sneer at him. I was starting to understand Leah's animosity toward the men in her life, who could only identify bitterness and never heartbreak. She'd been surrounded by this insanity for longer than I had, and I could see how the absurdity of it could chip away at the sanity of anyone immersed in it on a daily basis.

Mostly to myself, nearly forgetting Embry was still there, I muttered, "This can't be happening. This just...isn't real."

Leah walked in then, carrying three cans of soda. Embry opened his without taking time to thank her first, and I only pushed mine away; even liquids proved to be impossible for me to digest.

Embry downed his entire Coke within the span of seconds and then gaped at me incredulously. "So you can buy vampires, but werewolves are just out of the question?"

I didn't answer at first. When Leah had told me Edward was vampire, it had only taken minutes to accept he wasn't like me; really, I'd known that all along. Before he'd crushed the pedestal I'd put him on into dust, he'd seemed better than the rest of us somehow, impossibly intelligent, freakishly insightful, and unapproachably beautiful. I never thought I was worthy of him, though I had wanted to claim him as my own regardless. The fact he wasn't human didn't shock me; it merely verified what I'd always known: he and I traveled on parallel planes, our lives never meant to intersect. But Jake...Jake had always been my equal. We were the same. Neither of us had grace or sophistication. He couldn't sing on key to save his life, and I was inept when it came all things athletic. He chewed with his mouth open; I couldn't drink a can of Coke without burping endlessly. We stumbled through life together, two bumbling kids who didn't know what the future held for us. So, to answer Embry's question, I choked out, "I can buy vampires. I might even buy werewolves. I just can't accept Jake as anything but Jake."

"He still is, Bella. Just with added...perks."

Leah snorted at the boastful excitement in Embry's voice.

Snubbing her, Embry continued, "It just happened, a couple of weeks ago. We all get a bit testy, right after the change. I'm a newbie, too, but I think Jake just got pushed over the edge when you told him-" his voice dropped to a nervous timbre "-uh, what you told him."

"How did you know about that? What I said back at the beach?" I asked, unsure if Embry or anyone was capable of actually communicating with Jake. Even if that were a possibility, I couldn't understand when Embry had time to talk to Jake at all, let alone about such an intimate subject.

Embry chuckled under his breath, as if this absurd nightmare were somehow entertaining. "We have a special way to communicate when we're in wolf form."

"Wolf _form_? You can change back?" The air flew out of my lungs in a _whoosh. _Jake wasn't going to be subjected to an eternity as an aggressive beast; he would be Jake again. And then it hit me: tonight wasn't his first foray into monsterhood. Chances were that he'd been that way before. Quite possibly, he knew that, remembered it even. The idea that consciousness played a role in Jake's transformation flipped a switch in my emotions. Concern gave way to anger as I realized Jake may not be as innocent as I'd thought, as I'd subconsciously hoped.

"Sure. Though it takes practice. I'm still not that great, and obviously we can be prone to control issues."

"'Control issues?'" I scoffed. "Is that what you're calling me being mauled and probably scarred for life? Is it some sort of learning exercise for you guys? The trial-and-error approach to how to avoid mutilating the poor humans?"

Embry's face fell, likely out of disappointment over my failure to be impressed by his newfound lethalness. "It was an accident. It happens...sometimes. When we get angry, we can kind of lose control. It gets easier the more experience you have. He didn't mean to do it; Bella, it's killing him, what happened to you."

"'It happens,' does it?" I mocked him through a near-hiss. "Emily? Is that what happened to her?"

Leah sat down her can forcefully on the tray next to the exam table on which I laid before abruptly stomping out of the room.

Embry shot a sideways glance toward her fleeting form as he swallowed, answering my question through his silence.

I had a million questions left, but I wanted to reserve them for Jake. Unlike Embry, Sam, and Paul, Jake _owed _me answers. I wanted him to account for what he had done, accident or not. If he knew he was capable of such carnage, part of me wanted to hear it from his mouth so he could see his careless destruction firsthand. If he knew he could hurt me on a whim, why had he brought me to a deserted beach and put us both at risk? Another part of me wanted to never see him again, to avoid dealing with the new Jake and all the arrogance that came along with him. The jury was still out as to which side would win out in the end.

In the back of my head, a small voice tried to whisper that maybe I deserved this, but I gagged it; I was simply too tired to waste energy on hating myself. It was getting old, and though I didn't want to shy away from what I'd done, how I'd hurt Jake, I saw discrepancies between our tragic mistakes. My actions were motivated by honesty. As brutal as that honesty had been, I hurt Jake to save not only myself but also him, to save us both from a platonic purgatory. I didn't know why Jake met me this evening, why he insisted we talk about matters he possibly knew could spark his "you're-not-going-to-like-me-when-I'm-angry" temper. But he _mutilated _me, and though he probably did so accidentally, I had a sneaking suspicion Jake acted out of recklessness. And I wasn't sure I could call the varied consequences my actions and his a draw.

At some point during the necessary but uncomfortable silence that had fallen between Embry and myself, Charlie arrived, rushing into the exam room with an expression on his face that told the world he was a force to be reckoned with; I half-expected him to tell me he'd rounded up several bears as suspects and ask me to accompany him to the station for a line-up.

"I can't believe this, Bells." He just kept saying it over and over, shaking his head at himself as if the lesions, the bleeding, and the pain were all his doing. "I can't believe this happened."

"I'm okay, Dad," I lied through a cringing smile.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his hands trembled when he thought I wasn't looking. "We'll get you plastic surgery, kid. Like this never happened. You'll be as good as new."

Compared to Charlie's inept acting prowess, even I was a shoo-in for an Academy Award. I'd heard the doctor tell him cosmetic surgery wasn't necessary, which translated to "your insurance won't cover that." What _was_ necessary was a tetanus shot, an antibiotic administered through a pill better suited for a horse, 117 stitches, and a prescription for painkillers. The nurse supplied me with my weight in bandages and gauze, telling me to redress my wounds daily, before turning me onto my side and draining fluid out of each of the four deep gashes striping my back. Puss was bad, blood was worse, and when the two combined, I felt well-justified in passing out right there on the exam table.

I woke up minutes later to the nurse and Charlie appraising me with pity, making me feel both freakish and pathetic.

In one small, long-overdue stroke of luck, the attending physician wasn't forcing me to stay overnight, though he admonished me to keep my stitches clean but dry to ward off bacterial infection. On our way out the door, Charlie spotted Embry and Leah slumped against unyielding plastic chairs in the waiting room.

"Thanks for taking care of her, kids." Charlie mumbled his appreciation, but I knew that his words stemmed from absolute sincerity.

Leah responded by grunting something incoherent and downing a gulp from the can of soda gapping her otherwise clenched fist. Embry, left to serve as the diplomat, smiled weakly as a means of accepting Charlie's misplaced gratitude. "No problem, Chief Swan. So she's going to be alright?"

Embry spoke as if I wasn't here, and I knew why. He felt guilty for my situation, for Jake's actions and the brief moments he and his friends held me captive in La Push. I saw it all over his face, and the reaction stirring inside me told my scarring had already become more than just skin-deep: I didn't want to tell Embry it wasn't his fault. I wanted to blame and hold grudges and just hate someone other than myself for once, whether it be Embry because of his current proximity or Jake because of his thoughtless actions. I wanted to become as revolting on the inside as the inevitable scars that would mar the flesh covering my back. Ugliness was effortless, and everything in my life in the past six months had been anything but.

Charlie smiled gently down at me then, and in his eyes I didn't see pain or sorrow; I only saw relief. I was still alive, and for that he was grateful. Though I was tarnished physically, I wasn't going anywhere. If my father could find a silver lining in this god-awful mess, then I could attempt to stave off the easy path, the resentment that had consumed Leah and now knocked at my door. I could have opted to take that road, to hate everyone and everything surrounding me, but that wasn't who I was, or at least, it wasn't who I _wanted _to be. I watched Leah, closed off from the world, and cringed at the thought of becoming her. I wasn't destined for a happily ever after, but I wouldn't have to fall back into the isolated chasm of self-loathing I'd already dwelled in for far too long.

"Let's go home, Dad," I said as I gently tugged on his forearm.

My father headed toward the parking lot, but before I could follow, Embry cleared his throat. "He's sorry, Bella."

Jake had moved up the ranks and was now officially the last person I wanted to talk about. The part of me that wanted to sever ties with him was now winning out. I stood on the precipice of the ER exit, the automated double doors sliding open and closed, permitting rhythmic gusts of the March wind to filter into the hallway, as I finally lifted my gaze to Embry's. "I know."

Embry's forehead creased. He opened his mouth to say more, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"I need time. Tell him not to call."

I didn't wait for Embry's answer as I shuffled myself through the open, waiting doors toward the idling police cruiser.

X X X

I slept in the familiarity of my own bed, on my stomach, through the rest of Saturday night and into Sunday, stirring only when the pain caught up to me, signaling it was time to take another dose of antibiotics and two blue capsules that would lull me back into unconsciousness. Charlie told me Jake called more than two dozen times that day, meaning either Embry had failed to deliver my message or Jake just refused to obey the wishes of anyone but himself. I refused to answer the phone and told Charlie to say I was sleeping, which I usually was.

I simply could not deal with Jake. I was too tired and pained to be truly angry with him, and I knew that he didn't intentionally hurt me...but that was all I knew. I wasn't ready for answers, and I'd never be ready for excuses. I just wanted to forget he and the tragically bizarre world in which he now lived existed.

During a rare waking hour on Sunday night, I spoke to a frantic Renee and did my best to assure her I was alright, though I must have been doing a dreadful job because she proceeded to ask for Charlie, who stood on the receiving end of her worried tirade for the better part of an hour.

The stress of my short conversation with Renee tensed my already rigid muscles, and I forced myself to take a hot bath. I stripped off my loose cotton nightshirt and glanced over my shoulder into the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. After I peeled off the crimson-tinged gauze with less-than-eager fingers, for the first time, I examined my butchered flesh. My breath hitched in trepidation as I lowered my eyes to the center of my back. From the gap just below my shoulder blades to the hollow of my lower back, four deep, garnet gashes contrasted sharply with the alabaster of my remaining, unblemished skin. The half-inch wide slits left by Jacob's claws had begun to scab, creating a variance of glistening, deep-pink tissue and the dulled, ruby hardness of clotted blood. Grimacing ruefully, I realized my humorless joke the night before hadn't been far off; as I studied the myriad of stitches running the length of my wounds, I realized I was closer to the Bride of Frankenstein than I'd originally thought.

I ran the bathtub faucet until the heat of the water calmed my quaking fingertips and gingerly lowered myself into the shallow, steaming water. I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around my knees in order to avoid dampening my raw, stitched-up back. The doctor had warned me to keep it dry, but I was determined to get clean, to wash the ugliness of First Beach off of me.

I sat there in the vapor of the hot, still bathwater for at least twenty minutes and mourned the loss of my smooth, unblemished body. I'd never been all that vain and I didn't have anyone to be beautiful for anymore, but looking in the mirror at my back once I existed the tub, I couldn't pretend I wasn't disgusted and deflated over the pinkish marks that would soon take up permanent residence there, defining my physical appearance more so than eye color and a pretty smile ever could.

Charlie begged me to stay home from school on Monday, arguing something about "nursing my wounds" and "building up strength," but I'd already missed enough school due to comas, run-of-the-mill illnesses, and emotional breakdowns and figured the pain would be the same regardless of the setting. A day of resting on my bed only reminded me of whom I'd been months ago, physically unsullied but emotionally scarred beyond anything I was experiencing now. I wouldn't--couldn't--go back to that.

X X X

Somehow, despite my visit to the ER in Port Angeles instead of Forks, word had spread about what Jessica referred to as my "incident." As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, she, Angela, and (standing a few yards away) Mike awaited me, each expressing their own unique brand of eagerness at hearing my story. Jessica hungered for gossip, while Mike and Angela likely just wanted to understand so they could comfort me, though in very different ways.

"Why are you even here?" Mike asked, dumbfounded after I'd regaled my fabricated tale.

"Why not?" I shrugged before adding with a calculated, slightly loopy expression, "Painkillers are magical."

Truth be told, I hadn't taken anything other than Tylenol to dull the stinging down my back before carefully piling myself into the cab of my truck. I'd insisted on driving myself to school rather than tag along with Charlie in the cruiser, so my prescription painkillers weren't an option; I didn't want to be impaired behind the wheel and risk hurting someone, seeing as how someone else's thoughtless behavior is what put me in this situation in the first place. However, I banked on feigned prescription-drug use to help me avoid further questions.

En route to Spanish, a blasé expression still hanging purposefully on my face, I knew I couldn't survive the entire day faking a medicinal high in order to keep my classmates' interrogation at bay. Alice stood in the center of the nearly deserted hallway, blocking my path to the classroom door.

We weren't speaking, at least not anymore, but she seemed undeterred by our recent history of no contact. "I can smell it; you're bleeding," she accused, her tone falling somewhere between concern and minute hostility.

"Bear attack," I gulped, hoping to slide by her.

She repositioned her petite body so she could continue to obstruct my escape route. Her expression dripped with skepticism. "_Bear attack_?"

"Yup. Saturday afternoon. In Port Angeles." I couldn't look at her.

"I would have seen-"

I'd forgotten about her side gig as a fortune teller. Sighing, truly uninterested in her answer, I asked, "You didn't see it?"

I snuck a peek at her face, discovering that Alice was distracted, her unfocused eyes darting back and forth as if mentally searching her brain for some sort of explanation for her lack of foresight. "God, no. Had I seen-we would have stopped-"

I only rolled my eyes and pushed away the question of who constituted "we." "Class is starting."

Alice narrowed her eyes at me, grabbing my arm with her tiny, glacial hand. "Bear attack? Really?"

"Bear attack. Really." Even if she did know I was lying, a distinct possibility, she'd never guess the truth and I would certainly never offer it to her. I pushed past her and found my seat, knowing there was likely nothing else she could say to me.

Ultimately, I was right. After class, she only followed me with watchful eyes until I disappeared on a separate path to second period. I didn't see her again until lunch, but even then she remained sequestered at her own lunch table, her usual companion not yet joining her. At that point, I was sick of sitting up ramrod straight in all my classes in order to avoid the back of my chair making contact with my gaping, poorly bandaged wounds. However, the pain of my stitched-up cuts would have been a vast improvement over Mike's return to the coddling routine he'd perfected last fall when I'd broken my ankle. His constant attention forced me to summon up every ounce of self-restraint in order to avoid throttling him. Recalling our little Hallmark moment in the hall three weeks ago, with my sobbing and his comforting, I could only blame myself for the annoyance.

Walking to our table, Mike insisted on carrying my lunch tray and told me I should drink more milk in order to strengthen my bones.

"I didn't break anything, Mike. I don't think calcium matters for flesh wounds."

"Bella," with far too much concern, Mike spoke sweetly, on the verge of flirtatiousness, "it's always important to take care of your body."

Mike discussing my body in any capacity made me nauseous. I brushed off the discomfort of both the overabundance of Mike's affection and the stinging of my abrasions and settled in at my usual spot in the lunchroom. Within seconds, Tyler not-so-subtlety inquired about my injury, so I again launched into the bogus bear-attack story, pausing at all the right parts for the sympathetic sighs and mortified gasps of my audience. I was getting bored of the lie, but I wasn't stupid. I had no other choice, as anything of interest would mean telling the truth, which was far too weird and confusing to interrupt my classmates' blissful, cluelessly normal lives.

When I concluded my narration, I was prepared to fade into silence and stare out the window as they talked amongst themselves, just like I always did during the lunch hour.

But something was different.

My earlobes felt heated all of sudden, and the tips of my eyelashes hit the back of the skin just below my brow as my eyes widened with recognition. Stupidly, I shifted carefully in my seat, facing the party of two at the corner lunch table. Alice wasn't looking at me, but that wasn't the source of my concern. _He _was. Blatantly. Persistently. So much so that when my eyes met his, he didn't even try to break contact. Instead, he kept staring, almost as if doing so would physically draw me to him.

Every feature in my face tightened as I understood this was about one of two things: boredom-abating curiosity or a renewed thirst for the intermittent drops of blood seeping through the bandages covering my back. He could smell me, like a predator horning in on a three-legged doe. For him, killing was instinctual, he'd told me once. Still, I wasn't afraid. Just royally pissed off; my massacred flesh was neither a trivial piece of entertainment nor a snack.

I glared back at him for a fraction of a second before I couldn't bear to think of him anymore. I rotated back in my seat so I was facing forward, toward Jessica, who was inquiring about the cosmetic damage to my skin. "Permanent," I told her flatly, though unable to fully quell the sadness in my voice. I considered going into detail, to gross her out and put a stop to further questions, but instead I just swallowed another dose of Tylenol and edged a corner of my sandwich into my mouth, longing for the commencement of seventh period, when both lunch and English would be behind me.

As soon as the bell rang, I shot up from the table, toward English. I went directly to the classroom and had just begun to perch myself at my desk when Edward arrived. It was too soon for him to be here, as he usually waited until seconds before class started to make his appearance. Despite his early arrival, he took his usual, out-of-the-way route to his desk. That was his ordinary routine, but what happened next wasn't. As soon as he was out of my periphery, my ears flamed again, my heart detonated in my chest, and I couldn't breathe evenly if my life depended on it. All the signs were there; I didn't have to turn around or engage in guesswork to know for certain every nerve in his body was fixated on me. Not just glancing casually or staring at something just beyond me. No-he was watching me. I knew if I glared at him, just like at lunch, he wouldn't look away. It was infuriating, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still affect me. I ignored how the short hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and prayed for a fresh wave of indifference to wash over me.

Mr. Berty dismissed us thirty seconds early, and for once, I was grateful that Mike was at my desk in the blink of an eye. "You need help with your books? I noticed you were having problems carrying your backpack after lunch, and I figured you might not be holding up so well..." He was hopeful, as if carrying my books like some 1950s schoolboy would win my affection; if he offered me his letterman's jacket or asked me to wear his class ring, I was going to lose my lunch. I held back a sigh as I admitted that I could actually use the help and granted him a wary thank-you.

Mike and I walked out of the room together, my ears still hot and my heart still thudding in erratic frenzy. I moved at a snail's pace, taking great care to avoid walking too close to anyone for fear that someone might make accidental contact with the rawness of my skin.

I spent the my final class of the day wanting to curl up in an invisible ball under my desk, but knowing that doing so would cause the skin on my back to stretch and tear in agonizing protest. I just wanted to go home, where I could be alone and free of the pitiful glances and probing questions. To everyone at school, I was _that_girl--the ridiculous, newly scarred emo girl who experienced brief moments of self-induced isolation between freakish, random catastrophes. The last time I'd been the focus of their gossip, after their discovery of my break-up with Jake, I'd been too numb to care. This time was different, as I was now hyper-aware of their lingering stares and stage whispers. I hated to admit it, but it bothered me that none of them knew I was trying to fight back, trying to be as normal as I possibly could. Feeling their eyes on me was making me feel different and uglier, which only made me angrier that I was allowing the scrutiny to get under my skin.

Still, I trudged though History, playing the role of the diligent student and pretending nothing bothered me, watching the clock, imploring the day to end. I was tired, not fragile; annoyed at my receipt of more unwanted attention, but not depressed. The instant class ended, I was out of there. I gathered up my books from my desk and hauled them out to my truck, not bothering to stop at my locker for my jacket.

The parking lot was packed with cars but not yet a single student. I smirked; it was my first true victory of the day. The door of my truck shone like a beacon, calling me, telling me that once inside, I could just _be _and not have to put on a show. The sky had begun to spit sleet down upon me as I made my way to my truck, but the wetness didn't damper my slowly uplifting mood.

_Home. Home. Home, _my head chanted, telling me that when I got there, I could collapse on my bed and pretend none of the recent insanity I'd experienced was real.

As I reached into my bag to fish out my keys, I heard a familiar roar and either my esophagus had folded into my abdomen or the muscles in my throat had learned to close into themselves like a fist, because my next breath emerged strangled, and the slight thrill I'd felt moments earlier over going home vanished.

Pulling to a stop at my side was a familiar sight, though now newly unwelcome. Out of the idling VW Rabbit poured four colossal Quileutes, dwarfing it to the point where it looked like a clown car. I was only unfamiliar with one of the four, who moved to lean against the bumper, scoping the area as if he was on guard duty. Sam emerged from the front, with Embry climbing over the now folded passenger seat before walking around and easing the driver onto the asphalt. Both Sam and Embry gripped Jake's arms as if he were either under arrest or on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Or, quite possibly, both.

They held Jake back, at least ten feet from where I stood, my right side practically welded to the unopened driver's side door of my truck.

Wide-eyed and desperate, all of the cockiness he'd displayed on the beach either gone or buried, he started speaking, his words sad but accusing. "You wouldn't take my calls."

I felt no guilt, only resignation. "You're sorry. I get it. But, Jake, I need some time-"

"I had to _beg_to come here, Bells." His volume increased along with his desperation. Sam and Embry tightened their grasp on Jake's large biceps, prohibiting him from leaning forward by even a millimeter. He didn't fight their hold on him and returned to his pleading. "And I know I'm forcing another risk on us, but please-"

"There is no 'us,' Jake. There's you and the tribe and then there's me. Please, just go."

"You don't know what you're saying, Bells-"

He stopped short, his uninvited, pleading words hanging in the air, enhancing my discomfort. All four Quileutes bristled. Before I could question their sudden switch to combative stances, a loud, startling shattering of glass echoed through the empty parking lot. The double glass-paned doors leading to the main building of the high school had swung open with disarming force, pivoting 180 degrees on their hinges and smashing against the brick wall that bordered the doorframe. Shards of fallen glass danced violently against the pavement as Edward charged straight for us, his face a mask of fury, his pace inhumanly fast, moving toward the group surrounding me like shark thirsting for its next kill.

I didn't see how the rest responded-I could only watch him as he covered the wet expanse of concrete separating us with menacing determination. While I couldn't tear my eyes from his face, he didn't look at me. Not once.

He stalked right past me, his eyes targeting Jake with rabid, immobilizing intensity. In one swift, seemingly effortless maneuver, Edward placed his body between Jacob's and mine, his shoulder blades occupying the line of sight stemming from my dumbstruck gaze, as he simultaneously wrapped his long, lithe fingers around Jake's throat. The hulking bodies of the remaining Queleutes created a barrier around Edward, and he took advantage of this to drop his human charade and move at lightspeed.

It all happened in a blur until Edward had Jake pinned, silent but squirming, to the roof of the Volkswagen. The force of Edward's clenched grasp against Jake's neck violently arched Jake's upper body backward, his feet limply dangling just above the ground. The crown of Jake's skull was smashed into the metal of the top of the VW, denting the frame significantly under the deadly force of Edward's unbridled fury.

Though I had let resentment for Jake build and unleashed it on him only moments earlier, I now pitied him as he hung helpless, quite possibly within inches of his life. My mouth hung open, but I couldn't protest or scream-there were no words.

A human would have already breathed his final breath, but the new-and-questionably-improved Jake only jerked his own hand up to where Edward's formed an ironclad grasp around Jake's throat and attempted to yank Edward off of him. Jake was strong-firsthand experience had taught me that lesson-but Edward, a lion toying with his food, was stronger. Jake's efforts to free himself were in vain, as Edward only leaned over him in pure, merciless dominance. I could only stand on my toes and watch, my useless brain silent in incoherent shock.

"_You_," Edward growled, his jaw tight, nostrils flared as if buried in the stench of a thousand rotting corpses, the muscles in his forearm raging from under the fabric of his shirt, "you did this to her." He swallowed his jaw hanging open slightly, and for a split second, I thought he was going to rip off Jake's face with his teeth. Instead, he spoke again, shock and ire rendering his voice nearly unrecognizable. "You were the one-you _mauled _her."

From nowhere, Sam's voice shot through the tension, cold and domineering. "Take your hands off of him; what happened was an accident. This isn't the place." He turned to his fellow tribesmen as he spoke, adding "No one will attack here today."

None of them physically attempted to free Jake, which I found perplexing until I realized they, like myself, were likely stunned into complete and utter immobilization. Everything had happened within the span of seconds. Only Sam seemed to have a grasp on reality, but fear flickered in his eyes, telling me that grasp was slipping. Yet, though he was afraid, Sam didn't seemed shocked; it was as if somehow he knew what he was getting into before the Rabbit had even rolled into the parking lot.

Sam's words failed to distract Edward from the torturous vise he'd formed with his hand and secured around Jake's throat. He growled again, low and feral, and continued, "Touch her again-" he tightened his grip so that Jake choked for air through haggard, stunted gasps "-and I will _end _you."

With a shove, Edward released his hand from Jake's reddened throat. For the first time, I noticed I had company at my side. Alice stood within a yard of me, eyes wide with shock and terror as she roved her eyes over me to ensure that I was alright. Once she was satisfied, she turned her attention to the Quieluetes, replacing the worry in her expression with chilled disdain.

My eyes scanned the area briefly, showing me that Alice wasn't the only new addition to the group; thirty or more of my classmates hovered in varying distances around the idling Rabbit, their stares trained on Edward and Jake, whose faces were identical showcases for rage and revulsion.

Jake was alive with adrenaline, his body twitching for an outlet for his new murderous power. "Touch me again, bloodsucker, and I'll break you in half."

Edward scoffed. Malicious enthusiasm coating his voice, he sneered, "Marvelous. I'd love for you to try."

Miraculously, Jacob didn't move to attack Edward as I'd expected, though he kept flashing murderous glances in both Edward and Sam's directions as he trembled against his car.

Sam, like a patient parent ignoring a cranky child, addressed Edward directly over the sound of Jake's labored, vicious breaths. "I was hoping to see you here," Sam's tone was unfeeling but calm as he wedged himself into the limited space between Edward and Jacob.

Edward said nothing, only tightening his fists as if the action were the singular key to keeping him from snapping the necks of everyone in his wake. I stood completely behind him now; he'd backed up a few paces as if to shelter me from the Quileutes. I could smell him, the sweetness of his scent nearly compelling me to cry, rejoice, and vomit all at once.

"I just wanted to let you know that, as of late, our treaty has a little added reinforcement." Sam narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Our numbers are increasing. We just thought your kind should be aware."

"How long?" Edward demanded, his stare never leaving Jake's taunting face as if searching for something beyond a verbal answer. "When did you change?"

"Far back enough to know that we can't trust you," Sam responded matter-of-factly.

"You have nothing to worry about as long as _that_"-Edward indicated Jake with an upward jerk of his chin-"stays away from her."

"And you care because...?" Jake chided, furiously confused over Edward's ultimatum.

"I care because I'm capable of everything you're not. Of protecting her. Of sacrifice. Of doing the right thing." He was everything at once, violent but broken, bitter yet earnest, injured while dangerous.

Jake smirked at Edward's cryptic hostility, likely enjoying the chaos. Bitterly, I mused, _The cocky ones always do. _I hung my head as I realized I never thought Jacob Black would fit into that category.

Edward lunged and then suddenly stopped inches from Jacob's frozen face, effectively wiping the arrogance clean from Jake's expression. "I gave up _everything. _Because you were supposed to be the safe choice." I couldn't identify with his words or the anguish behind them.

Hearing his voice, amassed in violent contempt and baseless rage, made me feel uglier than the Jake's careless actions ever could. Just watching him battle the Quileutes made me see him for what he truly was. I'd once lashed out at Billy for his unjust prejudice against the Cullens, but Edward was no better. He wasn't gentle. He wasn't kind. He was just like them, hating without reason, hurting others out of self-righteousness. For no apparent reason, the Cullens and the Quileutes despised each other, and Jake's reckless involvement in my accident provided them all with an excuse to literally go at each other's throats. Edward's blind hatred reminded me of how ugly I was. Ugly for falling in love with someone only capable of hate and uglier still for allowing him to use me now in order to abate his boredom through his sick, twisted means of amusement.

"_Stop_." The word came out so staggered, so strangled that I wasn't sure if they understood me. "I'm not some pawn in your little game. Just stop."

Edward's shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn to face me. For that I was grateful; it kept him from seeing the ill-timed tears in my lower eye lids and, more importantly, it made walking away that much easier.

"Bells-" Jake extended his arm, reaching out for me. Edward bristled and brought his own arm down in a deliberate chopping motion, smacking against Jake's forearm and causing Jake to jerk his hands back to his sides. Jake winced and shot a purposeful, pleading glance at Sam, who, in response, remained stone-faced and shook his head a mere fraction of an inch.

"I told you that I needed some time." I swallowed. "Stay away from me, Jake. I forgive you. But that doesn't mean you have an open invitation to see me. Stop calling. Don't write. Don't stop by. Just-stay away."

The mild sleet that had begun when I'd first stepped out into the parking lot a half hour earlier had remained weak yet steady, and I shivered as I remembered I wasn't wearing a jacket. I couldn't afford to let the wetness to seep further into my shirt, causing it to cling to the bandages and stitches underneath.

I backed up a step and without turning, found the door handle of my truck with my trembling fingers. I jerked it open, ignoring Alice as she moved from her position at the side of the group toward me, opening her mouth to offer me useless warnings and unsolicited words of comfort. When I turned my back to her, I heard her back up and an engine start. Sam and the others had forced Jacob into the Rabbit, removing him so he couldn't hurt anyone else, or even himself. Climbing inside my truck's cab, my back brushed against the roughness of the upholstery, but it didn't matter; pain was rushing in all forms now, from all angles.

I gunned the engine, but before I could shift into drive, I heard a forceful _thump_ against the glass.

Edward stood at my window, staring right at me for a beat too long with wide-open, beckoning eyes before unhinging his jaw. "This isn't over. You have to listen to me-"

Edward flattened his palm against the window pane, a hollow smacking sound ringing through the silent breadth between us.

He was just as bad as Jake. Neither had scarred me intentionally, but in their own self-righteous blindness, each of them had disfigured me, permanently, recklessly. Jake wanted me too much, so he'd lost his temper and physically torn me to literal shreds; Edward didn't want me enough-at all-and mutilated the optimism from my already cynical heart.

I shut my eyes and clasped my hand over the gearshift. Breathing in, I released my foot from the brake and let myself hiss through the window pane, "You don't want me. I don't want you." I swallowed, fighting the urge to spit. "Stay out of my life."

I shifted into drive and sped away, leaving him standing alone, amidst sleeting rain and words unspoken.


	30. Uninvited

**Chapter 30 Notes: **Ch. 29 was not a favorite for me (and many of you). But I like this chapter. Hope you dig it, too.

Thanks to Christina for the beta.

**CHAPTER THIRTY: Uninvited**

Monday night passed in a sleepless blur of aches from my back and the play of shadows against my bedroom wall. He never showed. Just like I'd hoped he wouldn't, like I told him he shouldn't. I'd warned him to stay away from me, and apparently, despite that flickering moment of uncharacteristic, persistent fascination with me in the parking lot, he had no intention of fighting his way back into my life.

Though I knew better, part of me still considered it possible that Edward Cullen would make some sort of attempt to contact me. I wasn't sure which was more ridiculous: the idea that he would even want to speak to me after months of deliberate silence or that he'd actually have the nerve tfo try. He'd had something to say to me before I sped off that afternoon in the parking lot, parting us for the sake of my own mental stability. None of what he wanted to tell me mattered because I knew his motivation. Suddenly, in Edward's eyes, I'd gone from hum-drum teenage girl to the perfect tool in his vendetta against the Quileutes: the object of a young, crazed werewolf's misplaced affections.

For that reason, I'd meant what I said. Edward needed to stay out of my life. But I couldn't keep him out of my head. While I couldn't bear to see him, that didn't mean I was capable of erasing the day's images of Edward throttling Jacob from my mind. Nor could I escape the sudden resurgence of the sound of his voice or the vivid image of his face, perfectly etched with calculated bewilderment and distress. He'd never left my dreams, but Edward Cullen was now back to haunting my waking life with unrelenting fervor.

I laid on my stomach across my bed that night, obsessing over his words to Jake: _I gave up everything. Because you were supposed to be the safe choice. _

What the hell that was supposed to mean? Edward sacrificed something? Jake was the "safe choice?"

Or maybe I knew exactly what it meant. The only link between the two of them was...me. And that made no sense whatsoever.

Because Edward didn't want anything to do with me.

Because he had to know that I'd given Jake up long ago and yet he'd made no attempts to re-enter my life until today, when he apparently learned for the first time Jake was a werewolf.

Because if he'd cared about me, even just as a friend, he wouldn't have stood idly by and watched me rot for months.

There was no other explanation: Edward was _playing_ me. But I refused to be his toy.

Logic and experience told me Edward was putting on a show, faking selflessness and sudden devotion so that he could use me, either as a pawn in his bitter game with the Quileutes or for another fleeting piece of entertainment to break up the bottomless monotony of his immortality.

But, in the very back of my head, another theory stirred. It churned my stomach and tore at my tired, pessimistic heart as it fought its way into my conscious thoughts. Something about Edward's behavior today was off. He'd never been cruel, just unabashedly truthful. This was why I didn't hate Edward, though my actions and occasionally my thoughts suggested otherwise. I couldn't fault him for being honest with me. He didn't force me to fall in love with him or lead me on. He just didn't care about me, which wasn't something I could hate him for. Whatever game he was up to now didn't fit the pattern of his past behavior; he'd never cared enough to go to the trouble of lying.

"Damn werewolves," I muttered, the movement of my lips altering the shadow of my profile against the wall. I no longer had hope left in me and was thus faced with only one possible truth: the fursplosion of tribe members was the reason for the sudden renewal of Edward's interest in whether I lived or died. What I'd seen today was born from the longstanding disdain between vampires and werewolves. Not everything was about me.

I spent the rest of the night wavering between the afternoon's events and the stabs of pain stemming from my back. When the sun rose, Charlie wasted no time in checking in on me.

"You're staying home. I never should have let you go back in the first place. You look like hell." My back was covered up, so I knew he was basing his decision on the drained look on my face.

"Thanks, Dad," I said sarcastically. "But I can go to school. I made it through yesterday." _Barely._

Charlie was oblivious to a fault, but he was far from stupid. "Nice try. Get some sleep." He turned and walked out of my room without as much as a goodbye.

I crawled out of bed in search of breakfast. By the time I'd maneuvered my way down the stairs, Charlie was gone and the keys to my truck were missing from the hook next to the front door. It was 7:30. I had an hour before school started, and I could have sucked up the pain, dressed, and called Mike or Angela for a ride, but I recognized that I wasn't exactly Chuck Norris and that rest might do me some good.

I sighed and poured myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes. I was about to shove a spoonful into my mouth when I heard a rapping sound coming from the front door.

I gingerly made my way down the short hallway and peeked out of the narrow panel of glass bordering the doorframe. The sight on the other side caused my muscles to tense. "I'm not in the mood for company. Go away."

Alice's face fell, and I found myself adding "please"in a pained, regretful voice, even though she should have known better than to pop back into my life as if I'd sent her an invitation revoking the words I'd spoken to the contrary months ago. When she didn't move from the stoop, I wanted to withdraw my involuntary politeness.

She smiled a bit too brightly and held up a shopping bag. "Your bandages are in need of some serious attention. I can fix you."

I wanted to laugh; I was anything but fixable. "I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday. I can get them redone then."

"If you don't change them every day, you'll get an infection."

"They're working out just fine," I lied. I could feel the adhesive loose against my skin even as I spoke, but the last thing I wanted was to allow Edward's sister re-entry into my life. I'd liked her once, but now I had no idea where her allegiances or her motives lay.

"So you've been changing them on your own then?" Alice asked, her voice heavy with doubt.

I'd tried to swap out my bandages daily, but I was about as flexible as a plank of wood. Most of the time, I laid the adhesive strips face up on the floor and tried to position myself onto them. It was absurd, but the alternative was having Charlie do it and the idea of lying down on my stomach shirtless in front of my father was too creepy for words.

I did need help, and I had no one else to turn to. I was already taking serious risks with my health, and my skin prickled constantly with varying degrees of soreness. For once, I decided to do my battered back a favor. As an answer to Alice's question, I slowly stepped aside, allowing her entry. "I don't want to talk. Just do it and go."

She was being kind, so I suppose I could've been more polite, but I knew this visit would not be without some sort of emotional tax.

Alice followed me up to my bedroom without saying a word. I peeled off my over-sized t-shirt and carefully positioned myself face-down on the bed.

I heard the plastic bag she'd been carrying crinkle as she pulled something out of it. "I have my own stuff, Alice. You didn't have to--"

"What I've got is better. Carlisle said so." Ever so gently, she removed the two-day-old, sagging dressing that covered the skin around my spine.

Against my better judgment and though the answer was obvious, I inquired, "So your entire family knows, then?"

I heard her laugh a little under her breath. Cold ointment came in contact with my half-open abrasions. I winced as she replied, "Werewolf attacks are kind of a big deal, Bella. Even for us."

"Oh." I didn't want to give anything else away, but I'd given her an opening, so of course she jumped all over it.

"You have no reason to trust us, but you have to know that we don't want to start some war with them. This isn't about those dogs--" she corrected herself as soon as my body tensed "--the Quileutes." Her fingers moved gently against my skin as she patted down fresh bandages. "We won't let them touch you again, I promise."

I scoffed. "Do you honestly want me to believe this is all about protecting me? Get real, Alice."

She was finished caring for my wounds but didn't move from her place at the end of my bed. The spot in which she sat served as a bookend in time; our last real conversation had taken place with us in eerily similar positions. Then, the night I'd confronted Edward and cut ties with Jake, I'd let her comfort me but also wanted her to go, to end the conversation that would most certainly make its way to Edward verbatim; all he had to do was steal it from her mind. But now, though I shouldn't want to discuss anything with her, I suddenly had easy access to answers, so I decided to take my chances and keep talking to Alice rather than telling her to hit the road. I sat up and turned so that we faced each other.

"What do you want from them? Because I can tell you right now, whatever it is, I'm not the way to get it." Bitterness tinged my tone as I added, "They barely care if I live or die." I wasn't sure if it was a lie or the sad, simple truth.

Her eyes were wide, her expression sad in a way I couldn't understand. "This isn't about them, Bella. It's about you."

I bit my lip, hating that I probably looked like a scared, scarred child, and said in a near-whisper, "Please don't say that. Don't use me to get to them."

She moved her hand to cover mine but thought better of making contact and withdrew it. "We're not what they say we are. We don't kill humans; we hunt animals." She sighed and tilted her head so that I had no choice but to watch her as she spoke. "We've had a treaty with the Quileutes for nearly a century. There's no reason for them to attack us unless we feed off of humans. And that's out of the question, so you have nothing to worry about. We're not the bad guys, Bella."

I surprised myself by saying, "I know. I'm not afraid of you."

I should have been, considering my skin had been brutally ravaged by another inhuman creature days earlier, but somehow my head separated the Cullens from what Jake had become. If I was being brutally honest, I could admit that both sides were freaks of sorts, but yet I could still partition the vastness of my pain, the physical from the emotional. The Cullens, or at least one specific Cullen, couldn't hurt me anymore. That part of me was closed forever, and he couldn't do any more damage.

The slow, shy smile that warmed Alice's face interrupted my thoughts. She kept it in place as she asked, "Then what's the problem?"

Any urge I had to return her optimistic expression faded when the answer to her question filled my head and fell from my lips. "You know the answer to that, Alice. Nothing's changed."

In an instant, Alice was nervous. It didn't fit right with her usual vivaciousness. "Yesterday, you said--" She stopped short, chucked caution to the wind, and placed her tiny palm over the back of my hand. "You're not a pawn, Bella," she said, rebutting my argument from the day before. "I told you that this wasn't about them and us. We're not looking for a fight. We're looking out for _you_."

I tried to jerk my hand away, but Alice wouldn't let me. She held it a little tighter and pleaded with me using her eyes.

I shook my head and struggled to keep my voice steady as I nearly begged, "If you want information out of me, I don't know anything. I didn't know what he--what they were until it...happened. I still don't know the details. I'm not planning on finding out or spending any time there. Ever again." The bags beneath my eyelids grew damp. "Please let me be."

She took her hand off mine, but just as I exhaled in relief, she drew her arms around my neck. They were loose, so as not to disturb the stitches just inches below, but I knew if I moved, my skin would stretch and the inevitable ache would flame up.

"Why are you doing this?"I should have sounded cold, but my tears made me come off as more wounded than I already was. "Why can't you just let this go? We're not friends, Alice. You barely know me."

She pulled away, sensing my discomfort. "I know you. We were supposed to be friends. Best friends. I saw it before my family even came to Forks." She took a deep breath and continued with uncertainty, "No one knows this, but--"

"We're not girlfriends, Alice. I don't like sleepovers. I don't want to do makeovers with you or gab about boys. And I don't want your secrets. It's completely unnecessary to--"

"You're the reason I made them come here."

I could only furrow my brow as she looked at me, her face cloaked in both hope and shame. "What?"

She swallowed and nervously ran her hands through her hair. When she pulled her fingers out, the cropped tendrils were impossibly mussed, and my pulse changed as they reminded me of another time and another person.

She spoke again, this time with deliberate slowness. "When I became...what I am, I never bit anyone. For newborn vampires, that's quite a feat, considering how strong the blood lust is at first. But I never did. Because I could see my future, that my fate would be with the Cullens." She smiled to herself suddenly, her nervousness waning. "With Jasper."

I wasn't interested in her gothic love story or anything that had to do with her family. She hadn't explained what she'd meant; her time was up. "I think you should go. You promised."

"No. I never promised to give up on you, Bella. I need to say this, and you need to hear it." She was determined, and I realized that she wouldn't let me run away. I told myself I'd only pretend to listen, but it was a foolish vow; I wasn't privy to stories about vampire superpowers every day.

Against my will, Alice's words drew me in. "I've always been able to see things ahead of time. Like I told you before, I can't control it perfectly, but I do get glimpses. And sometimes they're really, really...important." Her words started pouring out fast now that she knew she had my attention. "We usually start in a new town pretending to be younger, so we can stick around longer. We were supposed to come here three years earlier, but then, a week before we were set to leave Alaska, I had these two, competing visions. Two fates, dependent on the timing of our arrival. And one of them was really..._special_. It was about you."

Alice shifted so she was sitting closer to me on the mattress. "I can't tell you the details, not yet, but I need you to trust me."

I scooted back, so I was as far away from her as possible without my back meeting my headboard. "_Trust you_?" My voice broke. "You've got to be kidding me."

She bent her elbows atop her thighs and lowered her face into her open palms. Frustrated and desperate, she nearly cried, "Have I ever done _anything_ to lead you to believe you couldn't trust me?"

"I don't know you,"I shot back, "at all. Six months ago, I thought vampires and werewolves were restricted to horror movies and unoriginal Halloween costumes." My fists clenched without me telling them to, and my face got even wetter as tears stained my skin. "Now, I have a broken heart and a sliced back telling me that they are very real. I can't trust in anything anymore, Alice. And that most definitely includes you."

"But you can, Bella." Her voice was impossibly small, like a little girl who just lost her puppy. "I'd never, ever hurt you. You have to believe that."

I could only stare out the window, watching the clouds moving against each other, crowded in the early morning sky.

A few minutes passed with me saying nothing.

Alice's shoulders hunched, but any heartbreak she may have felt or pretended to feel didn't stop her from continuing her story. "I told my family we couldn't come to Forks. I made up some stupid reason." She shook her head. "It isn't important. What matters is that I lied to them. All but Jasper. I've never lied to any of them before, but I had to. Otherwise, we would have come here too soon. You would've been too young, and things wouldn't have turned out right. So I made them wait, and we came this year instead. Everything was working out just as I'd seen it happen in my head, until Edward screwed it all up." Her voice faded as she muttered, "That I didn't see until it was too late."

At the mention of his name, I stood up abruptly, fighting through my pain so that I could jerk open my bedroom door. "We're done, Alice. Get out."

She didn't budge. Instead, her head shot up. She narrowed her eyes in determination in response to the look of repugnance that I'm certain covered my face. "Things were supposed to work out differently. I swear it, Bella. Sometimes the visions are a little off."

My entire body was shaking, and had I bandaged myself that morning, the adhesive strips would have given out by now. "I don't know what exactly you saw, but I do know this: He doesn't love me. He never did."

"You don't know everything." Alice spoke so softly, as if undecided whether I should hear her words.

"I know enough."

She ignored me entirely, lost in her own cryptic apologies. "I can't see werewolves in my visions. Or you when you're with them. I didn't know that until yesterday. We didn't even know any were in the area. You can't know how sorry I am."

"It's not your place to protect me." The initial phrase was muffled by my irregular intake of breath, but the next word hit Alice with crystal-clear precision. "Go."

She rose reluctantly and crossed the room so that she stood directly in front of me. "It's not too late." Again, her words seemed directed inward rather than at me. "It can still be fixed."

"Permanent," I muttered. "Unfixable." I stared down at her through the moisture lining my eyelids and gestured to my back, where bandages and stitches could only abate the wounds, never rendering the scars left in their wake invisible.

Alice didn't flinch at my blunt pessimism. "You never know," she hedged, her voice lighter but her face lacking any full-blown sign of a smile.

She turned toward the stairs. Just as she descended the first step, she turned. "I'll be back tomorrow. Try not to get those bandages wet. After I take them off, you can take a shower and then I'll redo them."

My jaw unhinged, protest dangling from the tip of my tongue, but before I could get out a single word, she was gone in a blur. I stood motionless at the top of the staircase, juggling too much information for any normal, human brain to process.

X X X

I spent the remainder of Tuesday watching television, channel surfing to the point that I worried I might have worn out the "up" button on the remote. I was willing to watch more than my fair share of reality television, complete with Playboy-bunny wannabes voluntarily swallowing live cock roaches and D-list celebrities belting out overplayed top 40 hits from the late 1990s, but I avoided talk shows at all costs. Once, I'd considered them laughably unrealistic, but now I felt pathetic in comparison as I realized my life was now far more bizarre than a woman who had seven possible fathers for her unborn child.

I groaned and shut off the television. With nothing else to do, I passed out on the couch.

When I woke, the sun had set and Charlie had ordered a pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms. I ate two slices and then retreated to my bedroom, where I popped two painkillers and slept the remainder of the day away, well into the middle of the night.

A few minutes past midnight, I wakened with a start. My bedroom was noticeably colder, but I didn't want to raise my heavy quilt to the nape of my neck; its weight would cause the fabric of my t-shirt to shift agonizingly against my back. Even through Alice's expertly placed bandages, I could feel anything that brushed against the small, raised pin-pricks of my stitches.

I sat up, dwelling on the fact that something was different. I couldn't put a finger on what had changed, but my room seemed alien somehow. I took a deep breath, and the scent that filtered in through my nostrils was fresher, sweeter even. A blanket from the closet in the hallway was draped across the foot of my bed, keeping my feet warm. Charlie typically stomped through the house like the Jolly Green Giant wearing steel-toed boots, so I was surprised that I hadn't awoke when he'd "crept"in to drop it off. For a second, I considered that Alice might have sneaked in through the window like she'd done months ago, but she'd distinctly said she'd planned on returning the next day and I questioned whether she had the audacity to come back sooner.

I was surprisingly comfortable in my bed, for the first time since the accident, but I pulled myself up and relocated to the floor anyway. I crawled over to the window. The laws of gravity had shifted and now centered around something just beyond my windowpane, pulling me so that I would look out into the forest that bordered the backyard. Everything was dark, and had it not been for the silvery sheet of moonlight cast over the lawn, I wouldn't have been able to see a thing.

The branches on the tree that stood just outside my window were wafting in the air, like fingers caressing the side of the house. I would have thought a breeze was behind their movement, but when my eyes caught on the oak tree further away in the middle of the yard, I saw that its branches remained motionless.

Stranger still, the windowsill was cold. Charlie's house hadn't seen new insulation since Jimmy Carter was president, but that didn't explain why the window was slightly open, a draft sneaking in through a nearly invisible crack less than a quarter-inch wide.

My eyes narrowed. _Alice. _The last thing I needed was someone spying on me in my sleep. If not for the painkillers, I would have freaked out that I had fallen into my usual pattern of sleep talking, where anyone standing in my bedroom could have overheard my unconscious ramblings. I slammed the window closed and crawled back onto my bed. I popped two more blue pills, just be safe, and drifted back into unconsciousness.

I woke up the next morning to a rhythmic banging sound coming from the first floor. I slowly thumped downstairs and flung the door open. Wordlessly, I headed back to my room with Alice at my heels.

She removed the older bandages and waited while I took a shower. When I returned, she patched me up anew. All of this went down without either of us saying a single syllable.

When she was finished, I broke the silence and mumbled, "Thanks."

Atop the mattress, Alice leaned back on her elbows. "You still don't trust me do you?"

"Absolutely not."

She nodded once without making eye contact. "So, I'll see you tomorrow morning then?"

"Yeah."

Her lip curled up at the idea of this growing into a routine. It gave her misplaced confidence, explaining why she asked, "Can I just say one thing, Bella?"

"No."

Sighing, she stood and let herself out of my room and out of Charlie's house.

I hadn't lied when I'd told her she didn't have my trust. But what I didn't say is that I _wanted _to trust her. I had no one else to turn to, and I didn't just mean for redressing my gashes. I couldn't talk to Renee about bloodsucking and full moons and all the other "myths" that had overtaken my reality. I couldn't say a word to Charlie about my favorite pizza toppings, let alone my emotional well-being. Angela was kind, but we had little in common outside of the fact that we both loathed high school. Alice was pretty much my only shot, but I'd been through too much to let her in. And she had ties I couldn't ignore.

I threw on my bathrobe and shuffled down to the kitchen, dismal at the idea of spending another day at home alone. Even school and the gossip that awaited me there was better than sitting on the couch and binging on bags of Fritos and old episodes of _Fear Factor. _But my keys were still missing, so I knew Charlie wasn't convinced I was well enough to go back.

As I contemplated Frosted Flakes versus Special K for breakfast, I heard a hesitant knock at the door. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

I knew who stood on the other side without peeking through the glass, so I thrust open the door and said, "Jesus, Alice, I told you I don't want--"

The rest of the sentence regurgitated back down my throat as I realized I had been wrong about the identity of my unexpected guest.

Dead wrong.

Decaying-corpse-splattered-against-the-asphalt wrong.

I moved my shaking arm to slam the door shut, but his hand shot out against the wood and kept it open. It shook on its hinges, but I could only see straight in front of me where he stood only inches away. I scrunched my eyes shut and prayed he'd be gone once I'd opened them.

I squinted out at Edward from under my eyelashes. He'd backed up a few steps, now frozen on the stoop instead of in the doorframe but he hadn't displayed his usual talent for disappearing.

Wrapping my arms tightly around my torso, I searched within myself for the will to eke out a few words. Or a word. Or a single syllable.

I was still searching when he quietly ventured, "I wanted--" He stopped himself and studied my face with both caution and poorly hidden curiosity. "I'm sorry. I wanted to apologize."

I felt my face twist into confused, pained distortion. I could only shake my head back and forth. Part of me refused to believe he was actually standing right before me, in the flesh. I couldn't understand anything he was saying. All I felt was panic. And though the resulting memory would damn me to emotional hell, I couldn't take my eyes off of his face.

He took advantage of my paralyzed shock and stared back. His eyes were light, his face ablaze in an expression of what a more naïve version of myself would have called hope and worry. He was a ghost of the boy I'd fallen so stupidly in love with. If I hadn't known better, I could've sworn he'd come back to me.

But I did know better.

Reality snapped me like a wet towel. "There's nothing to apologize for." I gasped in air, a bit too loudly. An earthquake shook my vocal cords as I gulped out, "Go away."

Edward shook his head at me, his eyes remaining still as they fixated on mine. He looked as ruined as I felt. "I have to say this, Bella. _Please__--"_

"Go. Away."

"I'm sorry about earlier. About Monday. I never wanted you to see me like that. I shouldn't have acted like I did, in front of you. I didn't know what he was. If I had--" He choked back his own words but then blurted, "I never meant to scare you." His arm lifted, as if subconsciously reaching out to touch me, but then it suddenly twitched back to his side.

"You didn't. Now leave."

His eyebrows furrowed, creating a crease just above his nose. "You're not...afraid of me?"

"Not physically." I always blurted out my thoughts with him. Both of us looked at each other in a fresh light now, with my physical and emotional scars tragically altering the dynamic between us. Regardless, I couldn't shut my rambling mouth or, at the very least, lie to him.

He kept watching me with those goddamn honey-glazed eyes of his, and I wanted to run. I couldn't believe he had the balls to show up on my front porch as if the past three months had never happened. As if that night in the forest had never happened. .

Edward saw his chance, and he took it. "If you're not scared of what I am, then why won't you let me--"

He stopped when a humiliating, uncontrollable sob escaped from my mouth. I sunk down to the floor, the scuffed hardwood of the front entryway meeting my knees with a resounding thud. I'd done this before in front of him, but I was tired and hurt. His presence was unraveling me.

From his position over a yard away, Edward crouched down so his face was at eye level with mine. "I won't let him hurt you. Ever again."

A maniacal, unintentional snort left my mouth. I must have looked like some sort of lunatic to him, my hair tangled and wild, my eyes red, my face tear-stained.

Edward's response told me he lived entirely within the confines of his own mind. "I didn't know what he was. If I had, I would've protected you. This would have never happened. _I _did this."

In many ways, he looked like a guilty child. It was unsettling until I realized this was just a continuance of whatever game it was he was playing.

I laughed. It was inappropriate, much like that night at Angela's when I went insane and giggled fanatically without reprieve. "You feel guilty? That had absolutely nothing to do with you."

"You're wrong."

"You have _no idea_ what you're talking about."

"No, Bella. I do."

"No. You don't. Now get the hell away from me."

"He'll find you. The minute he has a chance, he'll try and contact you. I saw it in his head. He will stop at nothing to try and be with you again, Bella." Edward's eyebrows were raised, he looked scared to death. I wanted to slap that expression right off his face.

"That would be my problem. Not yours."

"No, Bella, it is mine. I won't let him hurt you again. I promise."

For the first time since his initial, uninvited arrival on my stoop, I looked Edward in the eye. "You promised you'd leave me alone."

He tightened his jaw. "Things were different then."

"You can't just ignore me when it suits you and then invade my life again because you're bored. Or using me to get to them. Or whatever it is that you're doing. Keep your promise, Edward. Just go."

His expression was frozen into a confused defiance, and he repeated the phrase that tore at my insides. "I won't let him hurt you."

"Believe me, anything Jake can dole out--I've seen worse." I let him see every emotion that was boiling inside of me, every inch of my face evidencing what had been broken and beaten inside of me all those months ago in the forest.

Something inside Edward shifted, and he pushed all his weight back against his forearms. He seemed to understand how much I wanted him far away from me. Rising to his feet, he backed off of the stoop. All I could see of him were his shoes.

"You hate me." He turned the words over as if still trying to understand them.

I stood. "Aren't I supposed to? Isn't that what you wanted?" If he was setting a trap, I was falling right into it. But I didn't care. I was still stunned at his appearance at my door. There was no way I could fight off his tricks.

Edward moved back to the stoop again, but I didn't look up until he responded, "No. It's what _had_ to happen. I needed you to hate me, but it's the last thing I wanted."

I stole a look at his sad, amber eyes and turned my back to him. "Stop it."

"It's the truth, Bella." His voice was insistent, the volume slightly too loud.

"I don't care!" The dam broke, and I said it all, not caring how pitiable I must have sounded. I'd kept the suffering of his rejection bottled up inside me for months. Not wanting me didn't make him evil, but all my pain and emptiness was because of him. So I gave it back to him in spades. "Whether you wanted to or not, you hurt me. It still hurts. Every day. Worse than my stupid back and all of the ridiculous, petty gossip at school. I hate myself for not being happy when you're not around. And now that you finally are here, it feels even worse than when you're not." I wanted to turn around, but I knew if I faced him I would never get out what I needed to say. "Because you can't ever give me what I want from you. So _stay_ _away_ from me."

He didn't say anything in response, but he didn't leave.

I kept waiting for him to reply, but he never did. There was nothing he could say.

I took two steps further into the entryway and reached to shut the door. Just as it was about to close, Edward reached out his arm again, this time in a single slow, deliberate motion. The door came to a gradual stop against his hand, and our eyes met as he spoke sadly, reverently. "I'm sorry."

He moved his hand, and I let the door swing shut between us. On the other side, he turned and disappeared on foot into the woods, his Volvo nowhere in sight.

I ran up the stairs to my room, trying my best to ignore the shooting pain from my skin. I buried my face in my pillow and shut out the rest of the world for as long as I possibly could. Eventually, Charlie came home and told me to eat something.

We dined on canned ravioli and talked about the weather. It was by far the best conversation I'd had all day.

I went to bed feeling like a weight had been lifted from my chest. I'd faced him. And I'd survived. Emotionally, somehow, I was still in one piece. I still trembled at the memory of him standing before me, but I felt hope that I could stay strong and not crumble.

For once, I fell asleep without medicinal help.

Like the night before, I awoke after midnight, my room cold, the blanket I'd put back in the hall closet that morning back, neatly folded over my feet. I yanked off the covers from my legs and crawled over to the window. The sill was chilled again, but this time my unwelcome intruder had managed to slide the pane all the way down. Though the window was closed now, the room temperature made me wonder how long ago it had been ajar.

I jerked it up as far as it would go and leaned my head out into the cold evening air. "I told you to stay away from me," I hissed into the blackness of the moonless night.

I squinted. The trees at the forest's edge wavered slightly, and then, he was there, standing on the lawn just beneath my window.

The wind carried his response up to me in one frigid, painful gust. "I don't think I can."


	31. Relentless

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Relentless**

Edward looked like hell. Agonizingly beautiful hell. I wanted to damn him there for all eternity, but as it stood, I could barely open my mouth to speak, let alone propel him to Hades.

I rallied against the shock. Leaning further out the window, I bellowed the only word capable of fighting its way out of my throat. "_Leave_."

"I think I need to stay." His eyes begged up at me for what a lesser girl would mistake for forgiveness.

"Get gone, Edward."

"I can't." He sounded lost, and I wished that were the case.

Without warning, he climbed the tree next to the house and straddled my windowsill. I shied away from him with a single step before the backs of my knees collided with the edge of the bed. I sat down slowly, disbelieving that after months without hardly a wayward glance, he was now halfway in my bedroom, staring at me as if I were the lion rather than the lamb.

I fisted my quilt. Hoarsely, I snarled, "You can't be here."

He swung his other leg over the sill and leaned forward, still seated, his forearms against his thighs, supporting his upper body. His face was a foot from mine. Again, cautiously, inexplicably he pleaded with me. "Tell me why you want me to leave you alone, why I should go."

I aimed to scoff, but my lips twisted and instead it came out as a whimper. "You know why."

"I need you to say it. Tell me you hate me. Tell me I disgust you." His face clouded with desperation. "Make me believe that you don't love me, that you never did, that you never could." He rose from his seat in the window and hovered over me. "Because right now, I'm no longer capable of forcing myself to stay away from you."

"You're a terrible liar."

"No, Bella, I'm a fantastic liar." He spoke with shame rather than the arrogance I expected. "And therein lies the problem."

"I don't believe anything you say; I know what you're doing." My words crowded each other so that vulnerability couldn't creep into my voice.

"Thank God someone does, because I certainly don't." He retreated back to the windowsill and sat down, where his head dropped into his hands.

I'd never seen Edward flabbergasted. He appeared torn between bolting out the window and setting up camp at the foot of my bed. I marveled at the bewilderment playing on his face before I realized I was falling into his trap. His reactions had to be planned, yet they came across as natural. He was right; he was a fantastic liar.

"I'm not going to ask you what you're talking about." I lifted my chin in defiance. "I'm not that stupid. So stop pretending—" I stopped myself, barely able to say the words that needed to follow—"Quit acting like you _care_ about me."

I tasted the spite on my tongue, and I wanted to feed off the cruelty and use it as a weapon. The anger simmering inside me ate away at my denial, allowing me to finally confess to myself what I'd known all along: I hated Edward.

I hated him because I loved him.

I hated him because he didn't love me back.

Despite what I told myself about not having a right to fault him for rebuffing me, I did. I'd been doing it for months but never allowed myself to admit it. My hate wasn't fair or rational. It was rooted in the pain of his rejection and the loss of his company. It was immature and selfish and wrong…but undeniable.

And now he stood before me, trying to worm his way back into my life when he had to know the sight of him tore me apart. Finally, he'd done something to deserve my revulsion. Seething, I wanted to revel in his uncharacteristic nervousness, even if it was fabricated. I tried to glare at him, but my shaking hands weakened the impact.

Edward stared right back at me, fortitude flashing in his eyes, erasing all traces of his earlier confusion. His sudden burst of confidence enraged me, jarring me back into reality, out of the lure of his mind games.

A sudden chill against the exposed skin of my arms reminded me the window was open. The words I'd initially meant to throw at him when he'd first arrived returned in my memory and flew out my mouth. "Where the hell do you get off sneaking into my bedroom while I'm sleeping?! For Christ's sake, do you have any idea how _creepy _that is?"

"Keep your voice down," he shot back in a tenor hushed but hard with authority. "You'll wake your father."

My mouth gaped open for a string of seconds before I chided, "Good. You do realize that he's the chief of police? And that you're pretty much some pervert who spies on me while I'm unconscious? What makes you think you can just barge in here as if you had a standing invitation?"

"I never came in until this week, after I discovered…what he did to you." He shook his head once and then determination commandeered his tone. "I wanted to ensure you were alright. You shiver when you sleep. You're not warm enough. And sometimes I keep you from shifting, because if your bandages get loose, you could get a bacterial infection or rip out the stitches—"

"You _touch _me?" My face warped into an expression of horror.

"You're a heavy sleeper."

"That's the worst apology I've ever heard," I snapped.

"That's because I'm not sorry."

I wanted to wring his neck, except that would mean making physical contact, so instead I settled for attacking him verbally. "You are not allowed in here. Ever again. Do we understand each other?"

He stood and shut the window. This would have been fine, except that he was on the wrong side.

Rather than fade into the cold, howling wind, he hovered next to my dresser. Tree branches clawed angrily against the window pane as he slid down the wall so that he sat at my feet.

As if my question had gone unasked, he studied me and implored, "I need to be able to leave you, Bella. Tell me to go away."

"Go away." I propelled the words at him with all the force as I had in me, but the fact he didn't move told me it wasn't enough.

"Make me believe that you _want_ me to go."

I was exasperated, having no idea what he wanted; Edward had never before needed an excuse to abandon me. Yet, here he was, barging into my bedroom and then pleading with me to force him to leave.

Fortunately, I had no problem telling him what he wanted to hear. "I'm not lying! I don't want to see you or talk to you ever again. I don't want you coming in bedroom while I'm sleeping. I don't want you lurking around in my yard. I don't want you. Period."

Nothing I said seemed to stick. Instead, every word bounced off him, leaving him unscathed and in his own world. His gaze fixated on a photograph atop my dresser. My mother and a six-year-old version of me flashed him smiles he didn't deserve. Moving to his knees, he reached up and traced the corner of the frame with his thumb.

Reality caught up with him as he caught me watching him, and Edward withdrew his hand from the photo as if I'd smacked his wrist. He refocused down at the carpet, his Adam's apple bobbing once as he swallowed.

He sat impossibly still against the wall until I opened my mouth to again demand his immediate departure. Before I could speak, his head snapped up, his eyes open as far as they could go, casting a wide net from which I could not escape.

"You talk in your sleep."

As soon as he said it, terror clouded his expression as he awaited my reaction. But then, before I could enjoy in the fact that I could make him squirm, the part of me I'd sworn was dead resurrected itself: My face scorched scarlet.

Of course, he saw it. As recognition crossed his face, his distress gave way to an appalling display of awe and muted ecstasy.

I covered my eyes with the heels of my hands, humiliated that he could still do this to me and that he seemed to revel in wielding that power.

Yet…he looked at me like he used to, back when we snuck brushes of physical contact in the hallway and knowing smiles in English class. My hands, my traitorous shields, trembled at the realization: I loathed him, but I probably loved him even more.

And the worst thing about it was that he probably knew it. Without fail, my unconsciousness was filled with him. In my nightmares, he left me over and over, even when I'd beg him not to. In my dreams, he stayed, and we were stubborn and stupid and happy. Together.

I didn't have to ask what he'd heard me say. I already knew he'd heard too much.

I couldn't do this. Not again.

I wasn't a fast runner, not that even Olympic sprinters would have a prayer of escaping from an obstinate, self-righteous vampire. So I did the only thing that could grant me reprieve. "Daaaaaaaaaaad!"

Edward's eyes widened. Both of us heard Charlie shuffling out of his bed and into the hallway.

"We're not finished," Edward hissed before the window opened and closed in a chilly blur.

"Bella!" My door flew open to reveal Charlie panting, his .38 revolver in hand.

"I-I thought I heard a noise." My eyes were still attached to the window.

"You sure it wasn't one of your nightmares?"

"You…know about those?"

He scratched the back of his head. "You've always been a pretty, uh, vocal sleeper."

I'd missed the broadcast on CNN; apparently, the universe at large was privy to my nocturnal admissions. I pulled the covers on the bed over my legs. "It's cold in here. Would you mind moving the dresser over in front of the window?"

Charlie squinted at me in response. He looked like such a cop. It was probably the gun, but I also gave credit to the way his face contorted into suspicion.

"There's a draft." My voice was small. I wondered if Charlie could smell my lie.

He didn't say anything but moved his weight against the corner of the dresser and gave it a couple of hearty shoves. In its new location, it covered the lower half of the windowpane. I knew it wasn't enough to stop Edward, if in fact he'd meant what he'd said and planned another unwelcome intrusion. But it would make his job harder. Noisier.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Charlie left my room. I heard him stomp down the stairs, and the squeak of the front door told me he'd gone outdoors to investigate the source of my waking nightmare. He could search forever. It would never be enough to make me feel sane.

X X X

The next morning, Charlie chauffeured me to my doctor's appointment. I was scheduled to see Dr. Gerandy, but fate mocked me and somehow I ended up with Dr. Cullen.

"This is convenient," I muttered as he checked my vitals.

He smiled. "I thought it might be best if you saw a doctor who actually knew what he was dealing with."

"An expert in werewolf attacks, are you?"

Dr. Cullen chuckled. "I've been around the block a few times, Bella."

He was so calm. I tried to resist, but his peaceful demeanor was contagious. I had no reason to trust him, but then again, I had no reason not to. I waited for the onslaught of inevitable, probing questions, but they never came. Dr. Cullen withdrew supplies from the nearby medicine cabinet, all the while not saying a single word.

He moved to my side and examined my wounds. My back looked like a gory, flattened candy cane, a contrast of still-red slashes and pale white skin. Yet Dr. Cullen didn't bat an eyelash. It seemed that he really had seen it all.

My shoulders relaxed, the snarkiness dissolving as I asked, "It's not infected, is it?"

"No. It appears fairly clean." His tone and his touch were gentle as he peeled back yesterday's bandages. "Alice has been taking good care of you."

Reluctantly, I admitted, "She has."

Dr. Cullen was silent as he inspected my stitches. The quiet left me to stew in the fresh aftertaste of guilt. Alice _had_ taken good care of me. I hadn't asked her to, and whenever she'd patched me up, I'd offered her my thanks. I knew she wanted friendship rather than gratitude, but friendship meant trust. And I'd already wasted all I'd had on the wrong person.

The remainder of my interaction with Dr. Cullen played out like a page from the _Physician's Desk Reference _chapter on generic bedside manner. He told me to keep the stitches dry and if I was lucky, they could come out in a few weeks. He didn't sugarcoat the extent of the scarring either, and I appreciated his candor, though I was far from reconciled with my permanent disfigurement.

"How are you sleeping?" He was careful not to look me in the eye, telling me he already knew the answer.

"I need stronger sedatives. Something that will knock me out for the entire night." Even if I couldn't keep Edward away from my house, I could keep him out of my head.

Dr. Cullen didn't bother with the usual lecture about the addictiveness of painkillers. He only nodded once and scrawled something in loopy handwriting on an Rx script.

As he handed it to me, shame etched in his expression. "I hope things improve for you, Bella."

I wrung my hands together and changed the subject. "When can I go back to school?" I knew I'd need permission from a licensed professional before Charlie would let me out of the house again.

"As soon as you feel you're up to it, provided you take all the necessary precautions."

Relieved at the prospect of being released from house arrest, I replied, "I will be the poster child for caution, I promise."

The words "Bella" and "caution" fit together like motor oil and peanut butter, but he seemed to believe me and smiled slightly in response.

My voice met Charlie in the waiting room before my body did. From the corridor, I boomed, "Dad, take me to school."

It was nearly eleven o'clock, and I'd only be subjected to a half day, so Charlie reluctantly agreed after hearing I had Dr. Cullen's blessing.

When we pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes later, I felt suddenly nervous. I hadn't been back at school since the altercation between Edward and the Quileutes, and now I would finally feel the aftermath.

There would be curious glances and idle gossip. Mike would hover around, breathing down my neck. And I'd inevitably encounter Edward himself.

My stomach tightened, but the reason I wanted to come back hadn't changed. I needed to move on, to force my way back to normalcy, and I could never do that if I spent my days in solitude, chained to the living room couch.

I grabbed my book bag from off the floor of the cruiser, gulped in a deep breath, and walked toward fourth period.

Class hadn't started yet, and the halls were abuzz. I felt the stares and heard the whispers. But I kept walking with the knowledge that eventually, my classmates' mindless chatter would focus on another unwilling subject and I could go back to blending into the background.

I passed by Mike. He grinned. Next, Lauren. She didn't.

And then there he was, leaning against my locker, his stance cocky but his face haunted.

I groaned and vowed not to resort to violence, if only to avoid causing a scene. "Move."

Edward complied but only shifted enough to allow me to reach the combination dial. He leaned over me as I pretended the blood in my veins wasn't boiling.

I shoved my jacket into my locker without looking up, but my disinterested façade was shot to hell with a single, tentatively murmured request. "Have lunch with me."

I slammed the door shut with a reverberating bang, and instantly we had an audience. Snapping my gaping mouth shut and ignoring the probing eyes, I stalked away from him without dignifying his ridiculous offer with an answer.

Fourth period passed way too fast, and when it ended, for the first time in my life, I was desperate for the company of Mike Newton. I'd always noticed that Edward never seemed to approach me when I was with other people, so all I needed was a buffer to repel him.

When I didn't spot Mike in the hallway, I considered my old haunts in the library and girls' restroom but knew hiding was pointless. Edward could find me anywhere.

I spied Jessica and Lauren walking to the cafeteria, sucked up my pride, and made my way over to them. "Hey."

"Uh, hi," Jessica responded.

Lauren focused on examining a strand of her hair for split ends.

We formed an awkward trio as we headed through the lunch line, Jessica prattling on about prom, me "yeahing" and "umming" to Jessica's questions about dress-shopping, Lauren scoffing under her breath in response to every sound I made, hating me even more than usual.

I made my way over to the table and sat down, careful to keep my back straight and away from my chair. Mike was checking on me instantly and mistook my pained expression as a result of my wounds.

"Really, I'm fine."

"You look upset." He inched a bag of Oreos at me. "Here, take one."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. And I'm not upset." My words were negated by my face. Across the cafeteria, Edward sauntered through the doorframe.

I jerked my head down and shoved a cookie in my mouth so I would have an excuse not to speak.

Lauren took advantage of the silence. "Don't worry, he's not even looking at you."

"Good." My voice broke the word in half. I swallowed my cookie and tapped the corner of my lunch tray with trembling fingers.

I was met with a consensus of disbelief from the rest of the table.

Jessica zeroed in on me, impatient to ogle the elephant in the room. "Oh, come on, Bella. What was that about on Monday, anyway?"

"Nothing." I couldn't lie, and for once, all of them knew it. My voice had been too quiet, too uneven.

I wanted out of their sights immediately, but I had nowhere to go. Instead, I was forced to watch Jessica's face contort into a whiney, babyish pout. I would have gagged, but my entire body was focused on trapping in the sob that threatened to escape from the pit of my stomach.

Jessica, blind to my pain, pushed on. "I heard they wanted to suspend him for a week for fighting on school property, but Dr. Cullen bribed the school board so that he just got off with a slap on the wrist." She focused her wide eyes on me. I shuddered at the thought of the sort of information she wanted out of me.

"I don't want to talk about it." I wrapped my arms around my middle and rocked forward slightly. I was showing weakness but shamefully hoped that pity would shut Jessica up.

"Please, Bella—"

"Jess…" Angela's warning trailed off as her gaze caught on something over my shoulder.

The expressions of my tablemates told me all I needed to know. Angela's shock, Mike's seething frustration, Jessica's rabid fascination, Lauren's poorly concealed envy… The empty seat to my left drug against the tile, and I knew the identity of its occupant without glancing up from the table.

No one bothered to pretend they weren't hanging on our every move. I yanked up my head to glower at him like an atheist eying a crucifix, but the effect was ruined when a tear stained its way past my chin.

He moved closer and whispered, "Let's go."

His voice, deceptively tender, rivaled the screeching of a baby on a ten-hour flight.

I cowered under the sickening sweetness of his breath. He was clearly insane, and I wasn't far behind.

Nothing I could ever say could convey to him what his fire-and-ice attention span was doing to me. Too quickly, I pushed myself up from the table, protest stabbing from the overstretched skin on my back. The ripping sensation would end me if I ran. I hobbled instead.

Out to the parking lot I stumbled, only realizing my truck was at home when I'd reached the empty space in which it was usually parked. I didn't have my jacket, but I started walking. I was blind and chilly, though the temperature didn't bother me. Hot or cold, I'd be shivering regardless.

Although his movements were soundless, I knew Edward was walking several paces behind me. I didn't turn around. I just kept shuffling down the sidewalk.

Home was roughly two miles away. It was early spring but still felt like winter. I couldn't keep running. Edward was relentless, and I understood that I needed to grow up and face him in order to quell his pursuit. Detouring through dead grass and melting snow, I led the way into a deserted park.

I stopped.

So did he.

I didn't turn to face him. "You have something to say."

"I do."

"Then say it and go." Giving him a chance to speak his mind was my only chance to escape him; the more I ran, the more he chased me.

My teeth were chattering, and the moisture on my face chilled my skin. I jumped as I felt something drape lightly over my shoulders.

His jacket.

It had no semblance of body heat, and it smelled like him…but I was tired of fighting his every gesture and I knew where to draw the line. A jacket meant nothing other than warmth, so I shoved my arms through the too-long sleeves. My back still to him, I muttered, "I'm freezing. Don't think you're getting to me."

"I can drive you—"

"No."

I drifted over to a picnic table and sat down on a scattering of muck and leaves that covered its bench. "Talk."

He lowered himself down across from me and hunched forward. I put my hands behind me, gripping the edge of the bench, and leaned back, away from him.

Edward's head bowed. He looked up me through his lashes, his eyes sad and conflicted. It still affected me, and I had to fight to remember that he wasn't the boy I once I thought he was.

When he continued to stare in silence, frustration cracked my hardened exterior and I asked, "What do you want from me?"

He lifted his hands and held his palms open to the sky. "I don't want anything from you."

Wincing at his lie, I shot back, "I won't let you use me to get to—"

"I'm not using you, Bella. Deep down, you already know that."

In the biting wind, my face burned. "Like hell I do! You suddenly talking to me only came about because of what _he_ did."

"I'm not disputing that."

My jaw unhinged. "So you admit it?"

"I admit that I wouldn't be forcing my way back into your life if that bastard hadn't attacked you with his filthy—" He stopped cold when he saw me flinch. The anger drained from his eyes, and he froze completely for a split second, watching me, before his upper body inclined in further, toward the center of the table. Retreat wasn't an option; if I moved back another inch, I was going to fall off the bench.

"I want to decimate him for what he did to you." The harshness of his tone mellowed as Edward continued, "However…this isn't about them—about him."

My resolve crumbled further as melodrama and confusion overtook me. I whispered, "Why do you hate me? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I _need _to leave you alone. I wish I was still strong enough to walk away. But I'm not, Bella, and I'm certainly not doing this because I hate you."

Like a petulant teenager I pretended not to be, I snapped, "Well, I hate you."

He averted his eyes to the table before closing them altogether. "I need you to mean that."

I needed me to mean it, too.

My vocal chords felt thick and scratchy against my throat. I spoke louder to compensate, but I didn't sound the least bit intimidating. "Before I met you, my life was boring and safe and normal. At the time, I thought I was happy, but now I know that I hated every second of it. And then I found you and thought you were the fate my life was supposed to follow. I made a mistake, and I'm trying to move on from it, to go back to my God awful normal life and forget all about you, but you won't let me." The superficial anger faded, my face flaccid and empty in its shadow. "I hate you for that."

He opened his eyes and roved them meticulously over every pore on my face. His brows lifted slightly, changing his entire demeanor from tortured to resigned.

"You said my name," he whispered, eyes glued to my lips. "Last night, in your sleep. You said my name."

"I have nightmares." I memorized the flecks of peeling paint on the table, struggling to rein in the tears pooling above my lower lashes.

As if reminding himself, he mused, "You said it over and over. At least twenty times. You asked me not to leave you."

Out of my periphery, I saw him rise, walk around the table, and stop next to my spot on the bench. When he crouched beside me on the ground, I kept myself rigid for fear of coming undone. The proximity between us rivaled our closeness the night I learned what type of person he really was—or, rather, wasn't. In a mirrored reflection of that evening, Edward's actions reversed—this time, he leaned in further under the light of day instead of cowering in the darkened wilderness.

My only weapon was my words, which I shot out at him quickly so he couldn't exacerbate his heartless seduction. "You're fickle, remember? You're tired of me. You don't want me."

He kneaded his fingers into the frozen dirt at his feet, refusing to take his eyes off me. It was infuriating and soul-crushing, all at once, but nothing compared to the reminder that followed. "That night in the forest, you said you loved me."

"I was wrong. You were right—I didn't know you." He wouldn't stop leaning into my personal space. I scooted down the bench.

He continued, ignorant to everything I'd said, "I didn't believe you."

"I'm glad," I shot back, if only to fill the silence. Because, really, I couldn't find reason in my words if my life depended on it. It didn't matter that he didn't believe that I loved him; it mattered that I'd said it. The sting came from his rejection, not his disbelief.

"But then, I heard you, Bella. I finally heard you." His eyes lost focus briefly as he dwelled in the recesses of his memory. He repeated his sickening catchphrase, savoring the words as they tangled in his tongue, "You said you loved me—"

"I told you—"

"—three nights ago. In your sleep. You said it again." Edward breathed heavily, as if I'd siphoned the oxygen he didn't need from his lungs. "And I believe you."

"Shut up." It was the absolute wrong thing to say, spoken like a ten-year-old pleading with the schoolyard bully during recess, but I had nothing left. No strength. No defenses. Just empty, juvenile words.

"I wished I could force myself to believe that it was a lie, that you're just some lovesick child…but when you said it, even though you were unconscious…" He trailed off, his forehead creased in embarrassment.

When he started talking again, he wouldn't look at me. "Bella, I've never wanted to believe in anything as much as I wanted to believe that you still cared about me. Knowing all that you know, all that I've done. I watched you suffer for months. I blamed that imbecile, that _dog_ for letting you go. He didn't fight for you; he was an easy scapegoat. Never once could I look to myself. I couldn't fathom that you could love me, knowing what I was. Even before you knew, I thought you were happy with him. Every time I saw him, that night on your stoop after Newton's party and then in the hospital after that truck of yours nearly crushed you, his thoughts were always trained on how he'd do anything for you. And I thought that was enough. I thought that made him the better choice." Bitterness fueled his sneer. "The safer choice."

The sneer twisted into a grimace. Heavy with apology, Edward murmured, "I had no idea what he would become."

I fought against his spell and kicked my legs over to the other side of the bench, out from under the table, so I could stand. I spun around to get up, but Edward, ever the proficient predator, positioned himself in front of me, inches from my knees while kneeling on his own. If I wanted to leave, I'd have to brush against him. His explanations were unraveling the strength I'd spent months building up, but the consequences of his touch would prove far worse.

I looked up to the sky to avoid seeing him, grateful for the gusting wind that numbed the skin stretching from my forehead to my clavicle.

He spoke again, wistful and forlorn but with purpose. "I almost killed you the first day we met. Your scent called to me like none other. I wanted to drain the life out of you, just to satisfy my own thirst. After class ended, I tried to get my schedule changed so I could avoid you. When that didn't work, I bade my family goodbye and ran away to Alaska, refusing to allow an insignificant little girl to ruin all the years I'd spent trying to live like a man instead of a monster."

"But that's what you are. A monster." _One hundred thirty-seven. One hundred four. Eighty-seven. Zero._ The numbers he'd spoken to me four months ago echoed in my head, operating as a countdown to the destruction of my sanity. Out of self-preservation rather than the truth of what I knew of him, I whispered, "You don't love, you kill."

"That's what I was, not who I want to be."

Of its own accord, my neck jerked downward so that my head bowed to the line of sight stemming from his uplifted face. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion; I hadn't expected to stand up for himself.

Shadowed with shame, Edward was completely motionless at my feet. Our eyes locked as he continued, "I left Alaska and returned to Forks because I was determined to overcome the evil inside of me. I vowed that I wouldn't hurt you, that I would continue to live a life of redemption. That first day back, because I couldn't read your mind, I decided to speak to you so I could see you as a person rather than as prey."

He moved one hand to the edge of the bench, splaying his fingers inches from my thigh. I was too tired to fight him for more space; I could only draw my arms in to my chest and huddle over in search of warmth and reason. My back ached, but now the pain was barely an afterthought.

Edward went on, and I gave up resisting his story. "I expected you to be vapid and shallow like your peers, but you were insightful and blunt and…mesmerizing. I'd only meant to see you as a person to avoid ending your life, but from that day forward, you were much, much more."

I shook myself out of my trance and glared past the longing expression lingering in his eyes. "I entertained you. The little human who never said or did anything she was supposed to. I get it. Stop toying with me."

His face darkened, and his voice followed suit. "_Listen_ to me. Do you remember what I said to you the first time we spoke?"

"No," I lied.

His eyelids narrowed with skepticism, but he recounted the memory for me regardless. "You told me that you felt as if you recovering from your coma was a sign that you were meant to experience something in your life. Something extraordinary." He smiled sadly to himself, just as he had done that fateful day in August. "And I knew exactly what you meant. I too lived well beyond the point of my logical demise and wished I could fill borrowed time with something special."

I considered ripping off the jacket he'd lent me and shoving it in his face to silence him, but practicality won out as I realized I was still shivering. Burrowing my hands into the pockets, I looked out beyond him, over his shoulder, trying to avoid his scent and the gravity of his gaze.

He leaned to the right, blocking off my view of the typical Forks nothingness so I looked straight into the hideous splendor of his eyes. "You were the most intriguing person I'd ever encountered. I couldn't get enough of you."

My vision distorted, and I realized I was crying. "The most intriguing _human_ you've ever met," I clarified. "I've heard this before, so you can spare me the—"

"No." His weight shifted against the hand resting beside me on the bench in a brazen attempt to close space between us.

Edward studied his flattened hand against the warping wood, appearing to concentrate very carefully on what lie to spin next. "I'm incredibly self-involved, Bella, and I eventually let myself believe there was no harm in pursuing a friendship with you. For the longest time, I tried to stay away because the last thing you needed was a vampire in your life," he smiled up at me, weak with guilt, "but then I saw how miserable you were sitting at that lunch table, day after day, listening to the endless barrage of trivial conversation and catty remarks. You were so much better than them—and me. Nonetheless, I wanted more of you, so I forced myself a little further into your life. The fact you're such a magnet for trouble only gave me more excuses."

His hand twitched next to me, but I leaned in the opposite direction to avoid his migrating fingertips. None of this information was new; I braced myself for the inevitable "but."

His lips curled up into another vacant smile as he continued, "I told myself you needed me to save you, but the truth was I needed you to save me."

I sniffled. The sound collapsed his face. "Even now, Bella, I should protect you from a distance, but I made the mistake of letting myself believe you. You know what I am and still…you want me."

"I—"

He put one long, white finger to my lips. I jerked my head to the side, but he followed, the pads of his fingertips wiping away the dampness on my cheek.

"Don't," I growled.

His hand went back to the bench, but he didn't appear disheartened by my rejection. "Listen. Please, Bella."

"I don't owe you any favors. You claimed you had something to say, but clearly you're just blowing smoke up my ass." He opened his mouth, but somehow I was faster. "Move. I'm leaving."

The hand that wasn't resting on the bench lifted and went to my other side, mirroring its mate. Though we weren't touching, he had me caged, pinned to my seat.

He hovered over my lap so that his head was at level with mine and his waist was grazing my knees. "You're completely justified in how you feel about me right now, but—"

"I don't need your permission to be pissed at you."

He still refused to budge. Because of my back and its nearness to the edge of the table top, I couldn't lean any further away from him.

"Get away from me, Edward."

"I've already told you I can't do that, Bella."

"You asked me to tell you to stay away, remember? So I'm telling you. You aren't welcome in my life, in any capacity. I don't want your protection. I don't want your friendship—"

"This was never about friendship for me." Against me, he used my own stale words from a lifetime ago.

"Yeah, I get that. I shouldn't have been fooled that you cared about me at all. You watched me go through hell for three months and didn't even bat an eyelash. I was pathetic and I overreacted, but you never—"

"I thought you wanted me to stay away."

He was right, but that didn't mean that I had been when I'd told him I could handle seeing him everyday. Blame was heaven next to the truth. I swallowed hard and pushed the responsibility onto Edward. "You were a shitty friend."

He nodded, his eyes overly attentive to my face. "I was. We both were. Because, as I said, we were never friends."

I narrowed my eyes at him. A few tears squeezed out, rendering me, as always, meek and mortal in front of Edward Cullen.

Thankfully, he didn't bother patronizing me with his pity. Instead, he droned on, likely enjoying the musical tenor of his own voice. "Before I met you, I accepted my fate. I hated what I was, but I never dreamt of going back to a human life."

Edward picked up a sopping leaf stuck to my jeans and flicked it onto the ground. He stared at the mark the water had left on my thigh before placing his palm inches away, back to its resting place on the bench. His head bent down, and I dared to look at the top of his head, where stands of cinnamon hair whipped toward me in the breeze.

He stared down at my knees, unaware I was watching him. "When you flashed those doe eyes of yours at me on Newton's dock…all of sudden I felt human. You made me forget what atrocities I was capable of and just made me _feel. _I nearly hated you for that, as I could never be what you needed and could never take what I wanted from you."

"Stop it," I gasped. "Edward, if you have any decency, any actual humanity in you, you'll stop this and let me go." It was a low blow, but I felt trapped, baffled by him and was sick of the world telling me what to believe and who to trust.

He looked down at my lap, seemingly ashamed. "Bella, you made me wish for humanity. At night, I played this game…I'd sit alone and imagine my life as a human boy who had the right to pursue you. I fantasized of how I'd tell you Jacob Black wasn't good enough for you because he didn't see that Forks was suffocating you. I thought of Mike Newton and the expression on his face if I could grab your hand in the hallway and drive you home after school, away from him and his sordid delusions. But mostly I dreamt of telling you how I felt, and not having to apologize for it. "

I was welded to the bench, craning my neck at him. I could only stare, unable to process the weight of what he was trying to tell me. The shock bled my brain dry of logic and function, leaving me catatonic except for my eyes, which blinked mechanically every ten seconds.

Edward looked a bit petrified, but he went on, "I always broke out of my own delusions before morning, before it was too late. Black never acknowledged your potential and inadvertently threatened to hold you back, but he was still better for you than I was. Even Newton was an improvement over a 104-year-old vampire obsessed with the scent of your blood."

Although he was tearing himself down, Edward didn't alter the dominant position in which he knelt over me. I drew his jacket tight around my body, as if it could operate as a shield against the onslaught of his nearness.

"I never thought you could love me. I was certain you loved…him. He was human. The two of you made sense, at least on a biological level. When you found out about me, I thought you were going to tell me you never wanted to see me again. But then you turned everything on its head. I was sure it was a crush…you were young, and—" My half-scoff, half-sob interrupted him, but he recovered quickly. "—I assumed you'd move on. When you started wasting away in front of me, I blamed him and the fact you were trapped in this godforsaken town without any one worthy to love you or even converse with you."

My eyes focused on a slushy, muddy puddle next to my foot. I splashed the toe of my sneaker into the muck and tried to shut out the sound of his voice.

"I never stepped in because I knew you were strong, that you just needed time. I still stand by that; if I just go away now, I'm sure you'd bounce back eventually."

I found my strength then and snapped my eyes back to his sorrowful face. Flatly, I asked, "Then why don't you?"

"Black won't give up on you."

"I'm perfectly capable of handling him."

Edward eyed me reproachfully. "Really? You can handle enraged, reckless werewolves?" He lifted one hand from the bench and positioned it in the narrow space between my back and the table's edge. "Because the evidence suggests otherwise."

Glancing over my shoulder, I eyed his unwelcome, hovering hand. "Don't touch me."

His arm dropped back to my side. "I'd never hurt you."

One of my newly trademarked maniacal laughs erupted from my throat.

"I had a reason for what I did, Bella. You don't belong in my world."

"Yes, I deserve a normal, happy life," I recited dryly. "Except to me, that concept is an oxymoron."

He took in the bitterness and looked, unblinking, at the expression on my face. I had no idea how I must have looked to him, because then he did the last thing I expected: he smiled. "You still love me."

"I don't know you," I barked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then resumed his invasive leaning position. "Yes you do."

"The person I thought I knew would never lie to me."

"I did it to protect you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He cocked his eyebrows at me. "If you stop being so stubborn, I think you can figure it out."

"You—you're lying right now." I held onto the last shred of the idea that this was just a game to him, a way of using me. That version of reality was so much easier than the one where everything I'd been through in the past four months was completely unnecessary.

"I'll never lie to you again."

Through gritted teeth, I responded, "That's not much of challenge, considering I'm never speaking to you again."

He saw…something in my face then, or at least he must have because his expression grew soft and still as he inched closer. "Is that really what you want?"

"No question."

He pursed his lips, a challenge in his eyes. "Convince me."

Even his humbleness was cocky; simultaneously, he begged and patronized me within an inch of reason. He never wanted me, and I let that knowledge destroy me for months when I should have left it behind in minutes. He made me weak and stupid and hateful. I'd let it happen, but he stood before me now as if it were nothing but a simple misunderstanding.

I didn't feel my hand rise, but suddenly there it was, suspended in the air, my palm contracted and tingling with rage. I thrust my fist toward his cheek, but he caught it, unblinking, without breaking eye contact. A _smack_ broke through the quiet as our hands collided. Lowering my arm along with his, Edward had the nerve to tangle his fingers with mine.

His touch was smooth yet desperate. I jerked free of his grasp, and he let me go without any resistance. However, I still lost the battle because he eased in over my lap, stealing another inch I couldn't afford.

"You're not doing a very good job. If you want me to leave you alone, I will, but you have to show me it's what you want."

"I fucking hate you." I swallowed as I swore.

He saw me do it and knew part of me was lying.

"I'm sorry," his lips whispered, inches from the tip of my nose.

"I don't forgive you."

"I know." He closed his eyes. "I don't deserve it."

Through gritted teeth and reflexive tears, I asked, "Then why are you doing this?"

Eyes still shut, he eliminated the final inches between us as his chin touched my nose.

His mournful voice rang in my ears. "I've never been fickle, Bella. In one hundred four years, I've loved one person."

Without permission, his hands molded to my face, the joints of his fingers curving over my cheekbones, his fingers ghosting over my temples.

"It's always your choice…"

I couldn't see his eyes then, but I felt his lips press firmly against my forehead as soon as his words stole into me. They parted slightly, kissing me just once. My eyes closed, and with everything I had, I kept myself still.

Not pulling away, he breathed into my skin as his mouth begged against me, "But if you want me—and even if you don't—I belong to you."

I pursed my lips, aghast that his remained just inches above. "You're a quite possibly the cruelest—"

"I am. But I did it for you."

"I'll _never_ trust you."

His fingertips traced my profile once and then retracted to his sides. He leaned away slowly and stood. Taking two steps backward in the mud, Edward nodded once without looking at me. "All this time, I've waited for you. I can wait a bit longer."

I shook my head, not trusting my voice, and rose to my feet. I wasn't lying; I couldn't trust him…mostly because I was pretty sure I believed him. He might love me, but he also left me. And the leaving was all I could remember.

I wiped my face on the cool leather of his jacket, ripped it from my body, and tossed it onto the ground.

I looked at him. He looked back.

I turned my back to him and marched off toward school. For once, he didn't follow.

At that moment, I knew nothing except that it would be the last time Edward Cullen ever saw me cry.

**Chapter End Notes: **And thus concludes the angriest, angstiest chapter in all of IVO.


	32. Hypocrisy

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Hypocrisy**

In fifth grade, Charlie sent my birthday card three weeks late. He included a long, handwritten note telling me he lost his book of stamps and that he'd make it up to me. I told him I understood.

When Renee married Phil, she reassured me with a smile that talking to him via telephone as he traveled the minor league baseball circuit from Fresno to Albuquerque was enough to make her happy. The smile didn't reach her eyes, and I knew she was lying and that on some level, conscious or not, she knew I'd realize the truth. Yet, I couldn't hold that against her because she was my mom and the only true friend I had. She deserved happiness, and again, as I packed my bags full of raincoats and headed northwest, I understood.

Countless times, Lauren Mallory sneered at me in the hallway or gnawed at my confidence with her cacophonous words during lunch. But strangely enough, I couldn't really hate her. Lauren's mother, a former Miss Clallam County, packed her lunches full of rice cakes and, even in public, pushed Lauren to watch her weight like a meteorologist watches the weather. I always knew that Lauren hated herself more than she could ever hate me. Her behavior wasn't fair, she wasn't nice, but I understood.

I forgave them all because I always understood. Logic was my saving grace. Never before had it escaped me in favor of blind rage.

Until now.

Until _him_.

Edward threw away my love like yesterday's garbage, broke my heart deliberately, and lied to me. He claimed the moral high ground, but I couldn't see reason; I could only feel pain. And for once, I couldn't understand.

I stomped away from our last conversation shocked. Confused. Furious. Never had I been in less control of my emotions; every time I tried to rein them in, I was met with total resistance. For three blocks, from the park to the Forks' solitary stop-lighted intersection, I alternated between sobbing and spitting fire. No longer did I feel the cold air around me; my anger was a furnace that kept me warm but still shivering. From my forehead to my feet, my muscles were tense with an anger I couldn't control, an anger that prickled my arms with goose bumps, chattered my teeth, and watered my eyes. All the blood must have rushed to my head; I could feel the pulse beat in my temples. It throbbed in time with my feet as they hit the pavement.

Of all the…stupid…cocky…self-indulgent...condescending…invasive…self-righteous behavior I'd witnessed in my eighteen years, the previous thirty minutes sitting on a park bench, physically and emotionally frozen with Edward, took the cake.

Who was he to tell me what I felt?

Where did he get off making my choices for me because somehow _he_ knew what was best for _me_?

How could I not be infuriated that he took the bravest moment of my introverted life and turned it into the kind of humiliation that makes a girl question every redeeming part of herself?

How could he expect a few earnest sentences to mend my splintered soul and make me forget the slow burn of his rejection and the sneer on his face when he told me he could never want me?

He'd stayed away and watched silently from afar, waiting for me to right myself and live the life _he_ decided was best for me. And now he wanted to wave a magic wand and erase the past, the ache, the loneliness. He wanted me to pretend like it never happened, to simply forget. My fists contracted at the arrogant simplicity of his desires.

A gust of wind chilled the spilt tears on my cheeks, reminding me of my weakness, my stupidity in losing my temper and revealing to Edward that, even after all this time, I still cared. I wiped my face with both sleeves and took out my frustration out on a trashcan in front of Dowlings' Auto Repair by kicking it. Hard. Aluminum met concrete, and the crashing sound that followed made me jump like a jackrabbit mainlining Red Bull.

I looked up to find one of the Dowlings' mechanics watching me from behind a dirty window, his face wrinkled in confusion. Or maybe annoyance. I couldn't be sure, as I no longer had the confidence to properly read people.

My face flushed, and I frantically worked to pick up the trashcan and its scattered former contents. I aimed to smile apologetically at the mechanic, but my reflection in the glass told me I'd missed that mark. My lips quivered up into a desperate grimace, I was shivering both from the cold and fried nerves, my face was tear-stained, and my back hunched slightly. I looked deranged. In fact, if the mechanic tossed a bucket of water on me, I might pull a Wicked Witch of the West and cackle senselessly before melting into a puddle of insanity.

Once the can was upright and the trash cleared, I continued my awkward death march back to the high school. As I cut across the parking lot, I tried to calm myself. No one was worth losing my cool over once, and I'd managed to lose it a dozen times over when it came to Edward. I needed to do the mature thing and put Edward and his dangerous words behind me. Spending the next hour settled into my seat in history listening to a tedious lecture on the Eisenhower administration would hopefully jumpstart that process.

Lunch had ended, and the next class period was well underway when I approached the side entrance to the school. Walking into English thirty minutes late did not seem like a good idea as I'd used up all my courage. Instead, I planned to wait the hour out in the bathroom and then sneak into the hall after the bell rang, under the radar, along with the rest of my classmates before heading to my final class of the day.

I should have known today would not be the day my luck changed for the better.

I swung open the glass door, annoyed that it squeaked on its hinges and nearly crashed into Shep Huntley, a.k.a. Principal Huntley, a.k.a. Mr. "I stand five feet, three inches tall and thus manifest my insecurities on unsuspecting high school students" Huntley.

A vampire had just told me he had feelings for me, right after he told me the past four months of misery had been based on a complete lie. Facing something as trivial as detention for skipping school seemed ridiculous compared to the emotional turmoil I'd just experienced. I should have been able to shake it off, but instead my heart was in my throat and my pulse echoed in my ears.

"Miss Swan." Huntley's too-sweet candor was smug and told me I was in a world of trouble. The entire cafeteria witnessed me storming out and leaving school property with Edward at my heels. In a school of less than three hundred students, that sort of behavior doesn't escape notice of the typically bored faculty.

I couldn't look at Huntley, so my eyes befriended the floor. My face was red and puffy. One clear sight of it would begin to answer whatever unasked questions swam through Huntley's head.

"Did something interesting happen off of school property that merited your personal attention, Miss Swan?" His tongue clicked, punctuating his question.

I swallowed. Words escaped me. I was Chief Swan's daughter, but that didn't give me courage when it came to confrontations with authority figures. This was probably because I rarely got into trouble and tended to avoid conflict at all costs. Even with Charlie, I could count the number of times on one hand that he'd raised his voice to me.

I'd received one detention in my life, last fall for skipping class in order to hunt pumpkins and flirt with Edward, and that came in the form of a written slip from the desk of Ms. Cope, not directly from the mouth of Forks High School's red-faced answer to Napoleon.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled to my feet. "I just—I needed some fresh air."

"We are not an open campus, Miss Swan. We have rules, and though we have relaxed them somewhat in…special cases—" he circled around me like a bird of prey watching a wriggling worm "—there have to be limits."

Pitifully, I nodded.

Huntley whistled air through his lips and prepare to unleash the full brunt of his lecture, but before he could speak, the door squeaked again.

My internal compass that tracked Edward's every move spun south and told me he was standing right behind me.

"The fault is mine and mine alone, Principal Huntley." His voice was smooth with subtle tinges of authority. I wouldn't dare argue with Edward had I been in Huntley's place. Then again, Edward was a high school student who stood over six feet tall and that alone put him on Huntley's hit list.

Squinting up at Edward over my shoulder, Huntley smirked. "Why don't you let Miss Swan explain herself, Mr. Cullen? I'll deal with you in a moment."

"Honestly, sir, I made her go outside with me, the blame should fall upon me."

A scoff. "Is that so, Miss Swan?"

Huntley waited for me to nod in agreement. When I didn't, his confidence that I would rat out Edward waned and he grew displeased. Rising up slightly on his toes, he pivoted sharply before marching down the hallway. Without turning, he barked, "My office. Both of you. Now."

The anger that enraged me earlier cooled as embarrassment took over. Dozens of minutes ago, I'd sworn and spat and screamed to Edward that I'd hated him, sounding like a recently grounded teenager shouting idle proclamations of loathing at her parents. He must think I was such an idiot, such a child. I reminded myself that I shouldn't care what Edward thought…but I couldn't fight the fact that I did.

I gulped too loudly as I considered what was happening. The last thing I needed at this point was to be chastised in the principal's office in front of Edward. And what if Huntley called Charlie? What would I say? I could lie that my back was bothering me, but that felt wrong somehow, to use my physical ailments that already caused my parents too much worry in order to cover up my emotional fragility. Yet, there was no way I could tell him the truth. Besides, Charlie had an unspoken prohibition against conversations that began with "Well, you see, Dad, there's this boy…"

I followed Huntley with my head down and shoulders slumped. Edward walked somewhere near my side, not too close but still…near. I caught glimpses of the untarnished leather of his shoes moving in synch with the grass-stained canvas of my sneakers.

We had to walk outside, through the courtyard, to reach the administrative offices. When I shivered, it didn't escape Edward's notice. His arm darted into my downturned range of vision, interrupting the steady stream of passing concrete. In his hand, he held my jacket. The very jacket I'd hung up that morning in my locker.

Questions of when? and where? and how dare you? formed in my head, but I couldn't look at nor speak to him. In theory, I was angry. In reality, I was self-conscious. And inexplicably…guilty. And cold. I took the jacket and sheltered my quivering arms in its sleeves. A nod toward the ground was the only form of gratitude I was capable of offering him.

We trudged past Ms. Cope's desk. She smiled warmly at Edward. I didn't look at his face to see if he humored her in return.

Edward held the door open for me. I shuffled past him and took the seat in the corner, my elbows propped up on my knees so my back would avoid the unforgiving hardness of the chair.

Huntley kept an unnaturally tidy office, with plaques and framed certificates adorning every square inch of wall space. If I squinted, I was pretty sure some of them dated back to spelling bees he participated in during elementary school while others likely commiserated his third-place finish in the hot dog eating contest held in the town square every Fourth of July.

The three of us sat in silence for a minute or two. Of its own volition, my leg bounced up and down in a nervous, inconsistent rhythm. My fingers tapped against the metal arms of the chair but stopped the second Huntley cleared his throat.

"I'm disappointed to see you back in here so soon, Mr. Cullen. It's been what? Three days?"

I snuck a peek at Edward from behind a curtain of my hair, the first time I'd spied his face since the park. He smiled congenially in response to Huntley's snide remark. "Sir, as I explained, that glass was not up to code. As soon as the doors flung open, the wind took over and shattered—"

"You can't blame faulty glass for you threatening someone on school property."

This was about Monday afternoon, about Edward hoisting my ex-boyfriend onto the roof of his car with unbridled fury in front of half the student body.

Blood swelled in my checks as Huntley continued, "After discussing things with your father—" Huntley frowned at the mention of Dr. Cullen, likely bitter over wealthy newcomers who could buy their way out from under his precious but limited authority "—we agreed you'd be on your best behavior. And then you chase Miss Swan from the lunch room and off of school property as if the rules simply don't apply to you."

"I did, sir. As I said earlier, it was completely my fault. I'm willing to accept whatever punishment you'd like to impose. I understand that I was completely out of line."

Edward's words were technically apologetic, but his tone conveyed confidence and control. This irked Huntley, who struck me as the type who would settle for nothing less than groveling. Jessica told me earlier in the cafeteria that Dr. Cullen bribed the school board with a new science wing or a refurbishment of the school computer lab in exchange for Edward receiving a slap on the wrist after the Parking Lot Incident. If that were true, Huntley's overreaction to Edward skipping a single class period suddenly made perfect sense.

"Nonetheless, Mr. Cullen, I'd like to talk to Miss Swan alone. I think she'd be more comfortable—"

"No."

One final drop of courage I didn't know I had pushed the syllable out my lips. I wasn't sure why I said it. Maybe it was because I didn't want Edward's protection. Or maybe I didn't want him to take the blame for my running away. Either way, I couldn't push this absurd punishment onto him. The fault was mine for running off in an overly obvious huff in front of countless students and teachers.

Edward's head swiveled toward me. Without meeting his eyes, my skin turned some outrageous shade of fuchsia and I shook my head, begging him not to fight me on this. I felt kind of insane for wanting Edward to stay, but I didn't want to be left alone with Huntley and his arsenal of meaningless accolades.

"Very well." Huntley tapped his chin with his index finger and perused the file in front of him. "Prior to this school year, Miss Swan, you had an unblemished record. Zero tardies. No detentions, no expulsions. Not a single unexcused absence." He picked up a stack of papers from the file and straightened them into a perfect pile. "However, this year has been a different story. One detention in October for skipping class. Another instance of skipping a few weeks ago…which we let slide considering…"

Considering I was a basket case that no B.A. in education prepared faculty members to deal with.

The faculty pitied me, so they'd cut me slack for not paying attention in class, for refusing to participate in group projects and instead completing them on my own, and for hiding in a bathroom stall for two hours while I wept rather than attending class. Apparently, despite being the recent victim of a "bear attack," the special treatment Huntley alluded to was drawing to a close.

"My point, Isabella," he narrowed his eyes at me as soon as I gathered the nerve to look up from my lap, "is that you've never been a troublemaker. If something—someone—is causing you to lash out, bothering you in any way, I think I could excuse your recent behavior and let you off with a warning."

Huntley glared at Edward as he awaited my reply.

"No one's bothering me. I left because I wanted to." Needed to. "No one forced me to skip class. It was my own fault."

"Is that so?" Huntley interpreted my panic over being cornered as uncertainty.

"Yes, sir." I couldn't let myself look at Edward, but I heard every breath he took. "It was my fault, not his."

The seconds ticked by on the clock mounted behind the desk. Huntley squinted at both of us, looking for signs of weakness. One sideways glance at Edward told me he was blatantly staring right at me, begging me with his eyes for answers as to why I was doing this. As if I had any to give him; I was as dumbfounded by my actions as he was.

Huntley finally grew impatient at my unwillingness to crack. "It appears that both of you left school property without permission. The fault—and therefore the punishment—must fall on both of you. Ordinarily, I'd give you one day of service for leaving school property. However, through your insubordination, both of you have earned a second day. Perhaps you can revise your attitude toward authority during your time together." He opened a drawer, withdrew a pink tablet, and scribbled loudly across its surface. "Two days of Spartan Service."

Spartan Service. The last time I'd received Forks High School's lame version of community service for skipping class, I'd survived. I mashed my lips together in nervous concentration and told myself, _You can do this. _

"If you have no problem with Mr. Cullen, Miss Swan, then you shouldn't have any complaints about spending Monday and Tuesday after school washing dishes with him." Huntley was challenging me. I saw it in his beady little eyes. He aimed to scare me, to push me into protest, to place the blame on Edward so that I could avoid the situation entirely and Huntley could exact his revenge.

I struggled like a buoy against a sea of emotions—befuddlement, fear, shock—but I couldn't let any of them overtake me. "Alright," I mumbled, sealing my fate.

To my left, my gaze followed Edward's hand as it moved to his face, covering whichever direction his lips twitched. When he felt my eyes on him, his darted over to my face and I snapped my attention back to the floor.

"Very well," Huntley mused. His eyes became slits evidencing his reluctant loss, and he unfurled his malice onto us both. "Monday. Three o'clock. Kitchen."

A pink sheet of carbon paper flitted into my lap, another into Edward's. Huntley's way of telling us the conversation was over.

The detention slip crumpled in my fist, I rose to my feet and headed straight to the bathroom. Splashing my face with cold water, I took a couple of deep breaths and found my way out into the empty courtyard. Edward wasn't far behind.

"You could have walked away. You didn't have to do that." His tone said he couldn't understand why I didn't take my out when Huntley offered it. Confusion didn't fit with the Edward who had confronted me earlier, but the current version of him seemed lost, a little worried, and pleading for an explanation. Edward's words—but more so the things he didn't say—reeled me back to him. In defeat, I turned around.

My vocal cords rattled from somewhere in the back of my throat as I answered, "I'm a lot of things, Edward." A coward. A bitter harpy. A humiliated door mat. "But I'm not a liar."

I didn't mean it as a veiled insult toward him, but nonetheless, Edward sighed and looked to the overcast sky. "I can get you out of this."

"No thanks," I said to the ground.

"I'll see you Monday, then." In a moment of complete unEdwardness, his voice cracked. My eyes snapped up to his face. His eyebrows were knitted together in perplexed concentration, and he studied me with apprehension and apology. He'd done a complete 180 in the past hour, and I couldn't process the reasons for his change. Or, rather, I didn't want to process them.

No longer could I label the game we were playing. If Edward's objective was reentry into my life, right now he was winning; his bizarre behavior was impossible to ignore. But beyond that, I feared what he truly wanted from me. Forgiveness? Trust? Love?

If those were the stakes, I wasn't sure I had the strength or the courage to participate in this game of ours.

Edward saw my jitters, which were evident through my trembling hands. His eyes told me he wanted to cover them with his. Thankfully, he didn't dare. Instead, he moved as if he were going to walk past me, out of my sight.

Strategy-wise, his parting move was a stroke of genius. With meticulous care, he avoided my skin and hair as he reached to the twisted collar of my jacket and straightened it so that it sheltered my neck from the brisk breeze. We locked eyes for the briefest of seconds, his fingers still skimming the nylon of my collar, and just like that, regardless of the goal of this unnamed game, he took a commanding lead.

My breath hitched, and I remained motionless even after he disappeared from the courtyard. My head told me I was still angry that he had the nerve to nearly touch me, to brazenly waltz back into my life. But my heart…my heart was fluttering.

This _was_ a game, but it wasn't between Edward and me. No—the real game was between my heart and my head. As my pulse continued to pound too loudly in my ears, my brain demanded a return to my earlier state of stubborn, closed-off hostility.

Seventh period had begun during our time in Huntley's office. I sucked it up and headed to history, all the while marveling over the fact that in a single afternoon, my world had been turned on its axis.

Again.

Before I jerked open the classroom door to more stares and discomfort, I paused, gripping the knob. Somewhere between Huntley's office and here, my emotions shifted. I felt neither numb nor angry; instead my nerves crackled, my body alive with electricity. My fingertips smoothed the already straightened color of my jacket. Derisively, I muttered, "Game on."

X X X

Friday sucked. I was exhausted after getting next to no sleep the night before, spending the hours I should have been unconscious trying to hide from memories of that afternoon. Once I arrived at school in the morning, I noticed that the rings around my eyes made me look like a hung over raccoon. Plus, after the scene Edward and I made the day before at lunch, I was on the receiving end of more stares than usual. People didn't even bother to be sly about it. I felt like I had a third eye on the tip of my nose.

In an unprecedented twist of fate, during lunch, no one asked me a single question about Edward. Actually, no one spoke to me at all. Jessica and Lauren tossed me a few pointed glances, but they didn't try to draw me out of my bubble of solitude. The odd silence made me question whether my tablemates underwent overnight personality transplants. I kept my own mouth shut, ate my turkey sandwich, and tried unsuccessfully not to steal glimpses of Edward from under my eyelashes. Half the time, he was looking back at me and would send me hesitant half-smiles. I could only stare back with what I hoped was a blank poker face, but it didn't matter; Edward had always been able to read my tells.

A medicated night's sleep had not solved the hodgepodge of emotions bouncing around in my brain. One minute, I was resentful and indignant recalling his invasiveness in the park, the next I was remembering the sincerity in his eyes as he told me he wanted me. And then my heart would flip-flop, as if the past four months changed nothing.

But they had. I worked hard to remind myself everything was different now. I couldn't go back to being a doormat by allowing Edward to walk all over me and steal my heart without permission. Stubbornness, bitterness, bitchiness…I welcomed illogical emotions because they barricaded out the pain.

Those sorts feelings were safety nets for me because Edward was always watching—I could feel it even when my eyes were downcast onto the nearest inanimate object—but he seemed to understand that my only lifeline to sanity was his distance, so he left me alone.

I couldn't say the same for Mike. Not that I could really hold it against him. He wasn't Edward, and despite me wanting isolation, Mike wasn't the worst possible invader of my personal space.

"How's the back, Swan?" he asked, leaning against the locker adjacent to mine at the end of the school day.

"Hurts like hell, Newton. Thanks for asking."

"Sorry. So I guess that means you're not coming to the bonfire tonight down at First Beach."

First Beach. Bile coated my esophagus at the thought of my last visit exactly one week ago. Suddenly, the cuts on my skin pinched and burned in brutal celebration of the anniversary of my disfigurement. I managed to shake my head without losing my lunch all over Mike's Vans.

With sympathy, he filled the silence. "Maybe next time, then."

"Yeah," I lied. "Maybe."

He started to leave before turning to face me once more. "Bella?"

I raised my eyebrows in response, too tired to speak.

"For the record, Cullen sucks."

"Uh, thanks?" No coherent response came to mind. I didn't know what Mike knew or thought he knew, but it didn't matter; Edward was off limits. Even in my own psyche. I didn't want to think about him, let alone discuss his shortcomings with Mike Newton.

Unfortunately, Mike took my confusion as an invitation. "We all think so. Even Angela. And she likes everyone."

I shrugged and shoved my history textbook into my bag.

"You should have seen her at lunch. Before you sat down, she told everyone to keep their mouths shut because that d-bag had already done you enough harm." He grinned, savoring the memory. "Well, those weren't her exact words…but I've never heard her say so much in one go."

The mystery of Jessica and Lauren's grant of reprieve was solved. I was grateful to Angela, but the subject needed to change. Now.

"Tell your Mom I'm going to try and come back to work as soon as I can."

"Sure. No worries. Things are pretty slow until the weather gets a bit warmer."

Slamming my locker door shut, I gave Mike what was, in theory, a smile. "Later."

"Have a good weekend, Bella."

Mike's well wishes proved futile, as the following two and a half days consisted of my stomach, heart, and brain twisting themselves into knotted bewilderment.

Things started out pleasantly mundane. On Friday night, I laid in front of the couch for hours, feigning interest in the television while I really focused on the knowledge that Edward was likely somewhere nearby, his eyes possibly trained on the window framing my position in the living room. I ate Cheetos by the handful and convinced myself the Day-Glo orange stains on my lips and fingers were a blessing, that Edward would see me in my slovenly, sweat-pantsed state and lose interest in me on the spot.

Unfortunately, my wounded yet fearless heart sputtered fervently over my mental admission of the fact he was interested. Very interested.

I kept running from that idea, from the memories of the last time I'd been confronted with it on the day before, but it dogged me. Ferociously. Until finally, a part of my subconscious broke through and told me to stop hiding.

_He wants you, idiot. Edward _wants_ you._

I blinked slowly, my eyelids weighing a metric ton. Fighting against the inevitable, I tried to block out the icy blaze of his lips on my forehead and his promise to wait for me.

A million fleeting, ever-changing emotions flickered like a strobe light through my brain. Yet somehow, in that moment, I remembered the pleading look in his eyes and the earnestness in his voice. I couldn't begin to truly hear him as he dropped bomb after emotional bomb on me in the park, but now, as his words replayed in my memory, a part of me wanted to believe him.

And that scared me to death.

I didn't know what exactly Edward wanted. I didn't even know which version of him was the real thing—the sweet, brilliant Edward from six months ago; the arrogant, emotionally unavailable Edward from the forest; or the Edward who stalked me and spied on me in my sleep. One of those Edwards wanted me in his life. The question was which one.

Now that the truth—whatever it was—was volleying around in my head, I knew I couldn't bury this thing that was still happening between Edward and me, so I buried my face in a throw pillow instead. Crushing orange dust into the coarse fibers of the upholstery, I attempted to pound out my frustration by slapping my palms against the couch. It didn't work, and eventually my body gave up and forced me into an uneasy slumber.

I woke to the blue glow of early dawn and Charlie hovering over me, the corners of his eyes creased with worry from under the brim of his fishing hat.

"Bells? What on earth…?"

I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. "_Die Hard_ marathon last night on TBS. I guess I passed out."

His head tilted, a surefire sign of Charlie's skepticism, but he didn't probe further. "Your friend's here."

Alice bounced into the living room with a box of doughnuts in one hand, an expensive-looking purse slung over her arm, and a too-chipper smile lighting up her features. "Thanks, Chief Swan. I hope the fish are biting for you this morning."

I squinted at my watch and groaned. It was just after six. Charlie thanked Alice between bites for the doughnuts and tossed another furtive glance at me as he headed out the door.

The red flash of brake lights through the window was Alice's cue. "I brought you a present."

I wasn't all that hungry, but I nodded at the box of pastries and mumbled my thanks.

Alice waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, those were for your dad. An overload of carbohydrates to dull his suspicions over me showing up so early on a Saturday. I foresaw him asking less questions if—"

"—he was well-fed," I finished. "Yeah, I use that trick quite a bit myself."

We exchanged knowing looks, and it occurred to me how easy this was. We hadn't talked much the day before when Alice had dropped by before to school to patch me up, likely because she was trying to give me space. Now, though, in the haze of sleep, I'd forgotten to push Alice away. In contrast to my ogre-esque personality of late, I found that I didn't regret my slip up.

"Anyway," Alice broke the comfortable silence and reached into her purse. "This is yours." She smirked and amended, "Well, actually, this is just as much as a gift for me as it is for you."

A small, flat package was thrust into my lap. Dumbfounded, I tore at the wrapping. My reflection stared back at me from the smooth, plastic casing of a CD. "What the hell, Alice? _The Greatest Hits of ABBA_?"

She giggled, and I found it comforting. It felt normal, and not the mind-numbingly wrong kind of normal. The right kind, a weird sort of normal, the kind of normal meant just for me.

Alice's laughter faded. She studied me for a moment, as if nervous to speak. Finally, she said, "Edward's worried about you, you know. He might not creep into your room anymore—"

Mortified, I interrupted, "You _knew _about that?"

"—but he's going to be out there, watching over you. His world is you. It always has been, ever since you two met. Especially now, Bella—after everything that's happened—he's worried about you."

_His world was me. _I felt the color drain from my cheeks and couldn't determine how I felt about Edward's continued refusal to back down. After the park, he'd been nervous and slightly less in my face, but I refused to think about what sort of behavior the future might bring.

Alice didn't notice how distracted I'd become and kept talking excitedly. "Anyway, I don't know how much you know about vampires, but we have spectacular hearing capabilities. Like, if you cough, we can hear you from a mile away."

"Awesome," I choked out, mystified as to why this somehow earned me permanent access to a musical holocaust of tooth-rottingly saccharine lyrics and grating disco beats.

Alice leaned toward me, menace and enthusiasm alight in her eyes. "Edward _hates_ ABBA. More than he hates humans who crack their knuckles and the works of Danielle Steele." She tapped the CD case with her index finger. "Play this—at any volume—and it will annoy every last bit of sanity out of him." And then she winked.

"I don't want to torture him or…whatever. I just want him to go away. I'm not really looking to…"

Alice shrugged. "Edward's glued to you, Bella," she said simply. "He's going to be lurking around out there anyway. You might as well have some fun with him."

"He and I are _not _on good terms right now. I can't 'have some fun' with him."

"Sure you can. Besides, Emmett will adore you for it. He plays this album all the time as revenge for Edward's constant mental invasions."

"I'm sorry?"

"Emmett. Our brother."

I stared at her, my face awash in idiocy.

"You met him once."

"No, I know, but—"

"You'll see him again. Soon." Her smile weakened into an expression of wistfulness. "The future hasn't changed. It's still the same, Bella…for now."

I ignored her cryptic mind games and protested, "Look, Alice, I don't want to play games with Edward." Even though that's exactly what we were doing. With his stupid collar-flipping move in the courtyard and my not-so-sneaky peeks at him during lunch, we were playing our own bizarre, ropeless tug of war.

Alice studied me for a second, a knowing expression crossing her face. "You don't want him to disappear, not really."

It was too dangerous to think about what I wanted. Rather, I found it easier to say, "I think I might. I mean, he lied to me, so…"

"So?" she asked cautiously.

"So that's _not_ okay."

"You're right. It's not. He's my brother. I adore him, but I know he's not without his flaws." She took the CD off my lap and moved it to the coffee table, a gesture symbolic of the serious shift in our conversation. "He hurt you. You need space. I get that."

My mouth opened and closed without ever intending to say a word.

We moved to my bedroom, where Alice changed my bandages without much conversation. The topic of Edward never reemerged but always charged the silence. Alice apologized for waking me and explained she and Jasper were getting an early start on their weekend hunting trip near the Canadian border. She promised to come back Sunday afternoon and perform another bandage swap.

Once she'd gone, I realized how much I'd wanted her to stay. I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason until the phone rang Saturday evening.

When Charlie announced the caller wanted me, I knew it could only be one person.

"Hey, Mom."

"You still sound terrible, sweetheart. Are you sleeping?" Since Thanksgiving, even before last week's "accident," Renee began every call like this. Her voice was always too careful; I could practically hear eggshells crunch as her words poured through the receiver.

"Trying to."

She paused, likely searching for a new interrogation tactic. Our conversations were always stilted now, with me editing out the supernatural facets of my world and Renee growing increasingly frustrated over my nondisclosure. For the first time in my life, I had to keep elephant-sized secrets from my mom. Calling her had once been a means of finding my sanity; now it only reminded me of how much everything had changed and how nothing in my life made any sense.

"Charlie said you fell asleep on the couch last night."

"I was watching television," I hedged.

"He also said you were having nightmares, that he had to move your dresser in front of the window because you were afraid…"

"Everything's fine. I just had a bad day at school, and it spilled over into my dreams. This one dream was very…real. I just overreacted, that's all."

"A bad day? What happened?" The woman gave up on nothing.

Though, to give her credit, Renee's persistence worked. I felt guilty, so I threw her a bone by way of generic details. "Just the stinging, my back hurt."

"Your father should have never let you go back so soon—"

"No, it's not that. Not really." I sighed and against my better judgment kept going. I needed my mom, though she could never know the full explanation why. "Do you—" my head screamed to stop this topic in its infancy, but I ignored reason and plunged ahead. "Do you remember that…boy? The one I told you about? The one I used to kind of like?"

_Kind of like._ Less than two minutes in, I was already lying; this discussion was on the fast track to being a huge mistake.

"Mr. Sparks." I heard the smile in her voice and more than ever, I missed seeing Renee's knowing grins in the flesh. "Of course I remember him."

"I told him how I felt."

Renee sighed. "On top of all this? Bella, you've been through so much this week. You're a brave girl—"

"In November, Mom. I told him in November."

Silence held for a beat before Renee implored, "You never told me. Why?"

"I was embarrassed." Humiliated. "He…told me he didn't feel the same. And he wasn't nice about it." After all this time, my voice still shook at the recollection.

"Then he's an idiot."

I continued, equating my admissions to ripping off a Band-Aid—they needed to be fast, without hesitation to minimize the sting. "On Thursday, he told me he lied." I closed my eyes as I recounted it aloud for the first time. "He cornered me and wouldn't let me walk away until he pretty much told me that he had feelings for me, too. That he always had."

"Oh, baby." Renee spoke as if he'd done it to her. "Why would he lie to you?"

Because he was a vampire who may want to kill me more than kiss me. Because he was over 100 years old and set in his ways. Because, quite possibly, I scared the hell out of him. None of these answers, however, were appropriate for Renee and her all-human universe, so I could only give her an obligatory, weak response. "I don't know, Mom."

I pictured her in Jacksonville, in the tropical-print recliner she purchased at a garage sale in celebration of all things Florida, postulating over the limited facts I'd allowed her. Moments passed before she spoke again. Softly, clearly stuck in a fog of romanticism, she mused, "Maybe he thought he wasn't good enough for you. Maybe he was scared of being so vulnerable. There are dozens of reasons, Bell. Boys at that age spook so easily."

My stomach clenched. "I guess."

"I don't need to guess; I know. You're something special. He's got to be crazy about you." I closed my eyes and thanked God she couldn't see my face. I felt even more gratitude for that small favor when Renee added, "And Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"It takes a lot of courage to own up to your own mistakes and tell the truth."

Because bitterness was easy and forgiveness was rocket science, I shot back, "He lied, Mom. There's nothing courageous about that."

"But he told you he cares about you, Bella."

Memories of my childhood paraded through my head, all focusing on the men Renee had fawned over and—with the possible exception of Phil—the inevitable heartbreak that followed when they didn't produce the metaphorical glass slipper and subsequent promise of happily ever after.

My woe-is-me routine was cut off by Renee asking, "Do you still love—"

"I'm getting tired. I think we need to talk about something else." A sudden onslaught of jitters sent my limbs shaking.

"Sure, honey." I didn't understand why Renee didn't push the issue as she normally would until she added, "You've had one hell of a week."

I had nothing to say to that, as I could elaborate on nothing.

"You sure you're feeling okay? How's your back looking?"

I had no idea. I hadn't looked at it since the night I came home from the hospital. "Slowly getting better."

Renee sighed. "You've been so brave, Bella."

I pursed my lips in silent protest. Most of my time was spent moping on the couch, and I was fairly certain no one ever won the Medal of Honor for that.

Renee continued to bestow me credit I didn't deserve. "You've always been so strong, and I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And how much I miss you."

My voice was small, yet it still echoed through Charlie's tiny, empty kitchen. "I miss you, too."

"I should be there with you. What kind of mother am I—"

"A great one. Stop worrying, I'm fine."

"You always manage to push through, don't you, sweetie?"

My face scrunched up. I was thankful that she couldn't see the soundless tears fighting their way to down my cheeks. She was about to recount the story of me repeatedly trying to master riding a bike despite countless falls and scrapes or possible the tale of the time I walked home from school on a sprained ankle. I couldn't let her compare my childhood "heroics" to this. I was innocent then, and those so-called accomplishments were effortless. No longer wasI a wide-eyed kid, and this wasn't just me picking myself back up after a minor tumble. In a voice that wasn't my own, I told Renee, "It's just a couple of scratches. No big deal."

"God, a bear attack. Only you, Bella." Her tone was too light, and I knew Charlie had sugarcoated reports of my injury to keep Renee sane from four time zones away.

She usually saw right through my lies. But not this time. I'd been given so many reasons to lie in recent months that I must be improving. I couldn't bring myself to feel proud of this accomplishment. Instead, it made me sick and just as ugly on the inside as I'd recently become on the outside.

"I'm getting tired, Mom." Another lie, coming off the tip of my tongue reflexively, as unplanned as breathing. "I should go."

"Of course. Call me if you need anything. And get some rest. You sound tired."

I exhaled. "You already said that."

"Well, you do. Night, Bella."

"Good night, Mom."

I sat the phone down on its cradle, but fragments of recent conversations still rang in my ears. The voices blended, the messages mixed, and I felt like screaming to silence them. As a compromise, my memory focused on just one, the easiest: Alice.

Alice was the only person from whom I had nothing to hide and also the only one against whom I held no grudge. With Alice, there were no lies by omission or running away for the sake of self-preservation.

I missed her, especially after another day spent alone with only a veiled conversation with my mother to provide me with a semblance of company. I thought replaying my earlier conversation with Alice would make me less lonely, but halfway through my mental Cliffs Notes version of her words this morning, I stumbled upon another realization.

Edward was out there, watching over me, she'd said. Right before she'd mentioned that vampires have superhuman hearing. Which meant he'd heard my little chat with Renee. Word for word.

I panicked for a second and then realized I'd said nothing that he didn't already know.

Needing a distraction, I went to my bedroom, tossed Alice's ABBA CD into the closet, and settled into my bed with my battered copy of _The Complete Works of Shakespeare._ I skipped straight past _Romeo and Juliet _and began Act I of _Hamlet. _Within minutes, I was sound asleep because a girl can only take so much to-be-or-not-to-be angst before she passes out in frustration.

At 1AM, the painkillers' effectiveness waned, and I woke up in agony, my back pressed into the mattress. As I rolled over onto my stomach after ensuring my bandages hadn't shifted, an echoing pain stabbed up my spine. I rose to a sitting position and took the sedatives Dr. Cullen prescribed. I settled back onto my stomach and just as my meds started to set in, I realized my feet were cold. At the bottom of my bed, the sheets rode up above my calves, the quilt from the hall closet folded atop my dresser, just where I'd left it the day before.

Apparently, I didn't need a quartet of polyester-clad Swedes to keep Edward at bay.

X X X

Alice fixed me up Sunday afternoon. We talked about trivial topics and watched television for almost two hours. When she left, I initiated a hug and she accepted it without turning it into a Very Special Moment. For that reason alone, I could have hugged her all over again.

Charlie made dinner that night. He burned the beans and the hamburgers were as hard as hockey pucks, but the effort brought a smile to my face. I offered to clean up, but Charlie helped anyway.

As we cleared the table, the phone rang.

"That would be your mom. She said she'd call at seven."

I rolled my eyes. "The twenty-four hour status checks are totally unnecessary."

"She worries about you, kiddo." Charlie ruffled my hair. "Parents do that."

I smiled sheepishly at him and lifted the phone off the receiver. "Hey, Mom."

Silence.

"Hello? Mom? You there?"

The caller took in a sharp gasp of air, and eked out one syllable that told me he was not my mother. "Bells?"

I slammed the telephone back onto its receiver, a ring echoing into the silence of Charlie's kitchen.

Charlie was staring at me.

"Not Mom," I whispered.

But he knew that already. "I told that kid not to call here anymore."

_Anymore._

I looked back at Charlie with questioning eyes.

"I know you aren't on the best terms with Jake. Billy said something about it weeks ago, about how he told Jake to back off…" Charlie fumbled with the dinner plates. China clattered hollow against the tabletop. "He kept calling and calling, and I figured if the kid's own dad thought he was being too pushy…"

I hadn't paid much attention to the phone all week; usually I was too drugged up either from actual medication or from watching mindless television programs for hours to notice.

The phone rang again. I winced, and Charlie wasted no time. Without looking, he picked it up and slammed it right back down on its cradle. Then, he waited. When it rang anew, he narrowed his eyes, took the phone, and walked into the next room, where he said something indiscriminate before a single _beep_ signaled he'd ended the call on the portable handset.

He rejoined me in the kitchen, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "He won't call here again. I promise."

I rocked back on my heels and prayed for my solace of numbness. I couldn't—not now. Not yet.

"Dad, I need some air." My voice was raspy and broken, but Charlie got the message. "Tell Mom I'll call her tomorrow."

I was out the front door and hunched on the front stoop before he could answer.

My breathing was ragged, shallow. Images of Jake intermingled with stabbing sensations along my spine as I remembered. Jacob, my Jake, the sweet boy with an enthusiastic smile, my cohort in years' worth of inside jokes. Then another Jake, cocky and too forward. Then…something else. With hair. Claws. Teeth. My face in the sand. His weight on me as…my back…shredded. My body ruined.

I stood and paced the length of the driveway, forcing memories I wasn't ready to relive back into the dark recesses of my mind. I bent over, ignoring the limitations of my stitches, and filled my fists with gravel. I imagined boulders instead of small, insignificant pebbles as I chucked piece by piece into the darkness, my body releasing the rage my mind couldn't handle. I threw stones into the night until I ached and panted and heaved.

When energy abandoned me and pain rippled beneath my shoulder blades, I sank to my knees and looked past the lawn to the forest's edge.

Edward was out there. Watching. My body sensed him even if my eyes saw only branches and blackness. And amidst my panic, my fear, my rage…I couldn't bring myself to hate him.

I'd looked down upon him and claimed to despise him because he lied to me. As if I were somehow better. My stomach fell to somewhere below my knees. I'd been lying, both in the words I spoke and the words I did not, to my own mother and father. To myself, the lies were blatant and began months ago. I'd also lied to Edward when I told him that I had no feelings him. I did exactly what he'd done months ago. I pretended I was some holier-than-thou purveyor of truth when I was really a delusional, hypocritical liar.

In the distance, the trees were still. Edward, wherever he was, wasn't showing himself. He gave me space, signaling a ceasefire of sorts between us.

I longed for a parallel universe free of the past and future. Where I could just talk to him like we used to all those months ago. Where we could simply live in the moment. Once, Edward had seen right through me, to the naked insecurities belonging to the girl I was and the strength of the woman I longed to be.

I missed it. I missed the Edward of those dated, isolated moments. Now more than ever.

Because unlike Charlie, unlike my mom, unlike Mike Newton and everyone else at school, I didn't have to hide the truth from Edward. Granted, maybe I wanted to hide _from_ him. But, if I chose to, I could tell him anything. Like Alice, he knew the truth about the not-so-mythical world in which we lived. I could resent him and push him away, but if I needed him, there was a chance he'd be there. At least, if he was truly the boy who'd known me better than I'd known myself. If he wasn't a monster at all. If he was just…Edward.

I didn't know if I could forgive Edward or ever trust him, but I did know, somehow, that he understood. When no one else did, Edward understood.

The realization stung. But it didn't ring false.


	33. Sixty Seconds

**Chapter Thirty-Three Notes: **

Things no one will read:  
(1) This chapter has a Miss Cleo reference. Don't know who the hell she is? Youtube her now for maximum enjoyment.  
(2) This story is somewhat canon. And somewhat not. Hence, its label as an AU. As this progresses, things get further and further from the books and I take several liberties. One of which is the principal's name. Some of you kindly notified me his name is Principal Greene. I screwed up, but after (too much) debate, I decided to keep him as Principal Huntley. He's the only character I got to create from scratch in this entire story, so I'm attached to him.  
(3) Booksgalore beta'd this chapter and the next. And listened to my bitching and whining. Woman deserves a medal. A virtual high five will have to do.

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: Sixty Seconds**

_Too late, he realizes what's about to happen. Though, really, he had to know this was a possibility. Still, he didn't care; he had something to say, and regardless of the risk, she would hear him out. _

_In his eyes, fury and disgust morph into fear. Hulking over an oblivious, apologetic fool of a girl, his body begins to shake. Skin becomes hair, teeth sharpen to fangs, and adolescent pain surrenders to animalistic rage. _

_His eyes are no longer anything the girl recognizes. Nothing human remains inside this thing; it's beyond reason, rabid and starving. She can't let her see herself as its prey. But she's not naïve enough to believe she's merely an obstacle standing in its path. Rather, she is the enemy, a selfish, vampire-loving traitor. Maybe it has some sort of unthinking, primal instinct that feels her heart lies elsewhere. Maybe it remembers what its human alter ego heard pour out of her mouth moments earlier. Maybe that's why this thing pushes her defenseless body to the sand and stays instead of racing down the beach and giving her only a brief, isolated instant to replay in her nightmares rather than a lifetime of disfigurement. _

_The human it once was received permanent damage due to changed loyalties in her heart. When it snarls at her, she swears it's hissing "an eye for an eye."_

_She wriggles in the filth of the cold, wet ground, praying for unconsciousness to take her. But the fates demand she feel every second of her fall into freakishness. The thing climbs on top of her flailing body and burrows its claws into her pliant flesh, branding it as its own and forever destroying any chance of her forgetting this very moment._

_It digs and tears and takes until she expects to see chunks of her own body piling in her periphery. This isn't an accident; this is her sentence, her punishment. _

"_Stop," she cries. "Please."_

_It excavates deeper and cracks her spine, effectively telling her it thinks she still has a debt to pay._

_Her limbs jerk and spasm; she'll never feel them again. Her body will lie useless while her mind will have no other focus than the night her freedom was taken from her. _

_Her face, suffocating in the sand, manages to shift when something wet and warm leaks down her temple. Saliva from the hairy beast above robs her tears of their purity. _

"_Please," she whimpers. "Please just go." _

_Its talons pierce further into her limp body. She hears the nauseating squish of vital organs shifting and smells the rusty, vomit-inducing odor of her own blood. Past her fractured spine, the thing finds the girl's heart. Its claws penetrate multiple chambers at once, but she doesn't die immediately. She still has time to remember. She sees her father's face when she climbed off a plane at Sea-Tac in ninth grade, so happy that he'll finally know his daughter outside of federal holidays and a single week in the summer. She sees her mother, radiant in a simple white dress at the county courthouse, kissing her cheek after the girl walks her down the aisle and whispering, "I love you, sweetheart." She sees a boy with pale skin and hair the color of burnt sienna, her favorite crayon. As she begins to black out, she remembers his voice as he whispered in her ear, "I belong to you." _

_Minutes or hours later, her body loses consciousness. If it awakes at all, it will spend decades confined to respirators and the sterile cardboard of hospital sheets. _

_Ankles deep in salt water, I watch my own body fade away on the shore. The beast that ripped me from normalcy senses me and, still atop my near-lifeless physical form, turns to study me. _

"_You're Jake," I whisper. "You're sweet and kind and selfless. You're still in there. Somewhere. You have to be."_

"_I am," the creature smirks. The voice is Jacob's—albeit plagued by a sadistic tone my Jake never used—but the body from which it sounds is still hairy and menacing. It narrows its eyes and whispers, "But I'm also this."_

"_You're good, deep down. I believe in you," I vow._

_From underneath its colossal legs, I see my physical form acquiesce and weaken until nothing remains but a limp body of knotted hair, grated flesh, and splintered bone._

"_You ruined me, Bella. You ruined us. All for a filthy bloodsucker you can never trust." Under matted, mangy hair, its lips twist into a sneer. "I can find you. Anytime. Anywhere."_

_From behind him, a crowd forms. The faces are aloof, and though I am more familiar with seeing them panicked, I recognize all of them. Harry. Billy. Sue. Jared. Paul. Sam. Embry. They nod in agreement, silently informing me that I deserve this. _

I awoke to a forehead dripping with sweat and a stomach churning with the heaviness of a cement truck. I stumbled into the bathroom, crying in silent heaves until I spilled my dinner into the toilet.

_Anytime_, nightmare Jake had told me. _Anywhere._

After I scrubbed the dream out of my mouth with my toothbrush, I crept back to my bedroom and prayed Charlie was completely oblivious to my trek to the bathroom. My face twisted on pillow as I digested Hallucinogenic Jake's words.

It wasn't real. But I still believed it was possible that the cocky, determined stranger Jake had become would find me.

In the dark, I fumbled on my nightstand for the plastic bottle of sleeping pills. I didn't need to flip on the light to know that four pills was twice the dosage Dr. Cullen prescribed. But they were necessary. If the nightmare had a sequel, I didn't want to remember it when I woke. Palming the pills and shoving them into my waiting mouth, I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for morning.

X X X

I woke the next day disoriented with a vague memory of medicating myself sometime during the middle of the night. There had been some sort of bad dream, but I refused to dig deep enough to bring it back to my conscious thoughts. As my eyes focused, they found the red glow of the numbers on my alarm clock. Six forty-eight. I had a little over eight hours to pull myself together.

Three o'clock was my high noon. It was then that Edward and I would have another one of our standoffs. Our hands would mold around dishes coated with hardened remnants of unwanted lunches rather than pistols, but the electric tension crackling in the air would be the same as if we were facing off in the OK Corral amidst tumbleweeds and curious townsfolk.

Because of my afterschool detention, I expected the hours leading up to 3PM to suck on an epic scale. However, I wrongly assumed I had nothing to worry about until I set foot on school property

A few minutes and a trip to the kitchen later, with good intentions and Cheerio dust in his mustache, Charlie brought reality crashing down upon me earlier than I'd planned.

"Harry's been in the hospital this past week. Heart trouble. They're letting him go home tonight, so I was thinking about paying him a visit at home tomorrow." Already, my heart beat from my esophagus, even before he added, "You could come with me."

Awaiting my answer, Charlie ate his cereal in oblivion.

I choked on mine.

After gulping down gasps of air followed by half a glass of milk, I tried changing the subject. "Remember that you have to pick me up at five tonight and tomorrow, Dad. I've got that group project I'm working on after school." It was a lie, but lying now came so easily to me that I welcomed deception over Charlie's topic of choice.

"Yeah, sure. I remember," he muttered dismissively. "Anyway, I went over to Olympic Medical last night. Leah and Seth kept asking about you."

It took three tries before I could say, "I can't."

"They seemed really worried. It'd be nice if you showed them you're doing okay." He took great pains not to look at me as he offered me reassurance as an incentive. "We won't make any other stops outside of the Clearwaters' place."

"_No_." My hands left their original positions gripping the bicep on each opposing arm and hit the table with more force than I'd intended, sending my spoon rattling against the oak. "La Push is—I-I can't go there, Dad."

Never one to push, he dismissed the subject, muttering as if embarrassed, "Just thought you'd like to see your friends."

"Friends… They're not—I can't go there," I repeated in a hoarse whisper. Leaving my cereal bowl on the table, I stood abruptly. "Alice is giving me a ride this morning. I'll be in my room."

"Bells?"

"Dad, I—"

Alarm in his eyes, Charlie interrupted me by holding up a hand, palm flat to the air, likely hoping it would operate as a stop sign to any emotional waterworks. "When's the last time you got the mail?"

I rocked back and forth on my heels, still too keyed up for a normal response. "Uh…"

"I ordered something for you. Should be here any day now."

Checks and gift cards were Charlie's trademark. Any present that fit into a box and required wrapping paper was foreign to him. If he made extra effort, despite my need to retreat into myself at the moment, so could I.

I pushed the lump in my throat down with a swallow. "Thanks, Dad. I'll look for it on my way out this morning."

Turning around, I thundered up the stairs for fear that Charlie would somehow ferret out the truth behind my sudden panic.

My bedroom wasn't an improvement over the kitchen. Each corner served as a reminder that the room no longer swaddled me from the insanity of my not-so-brave new world. The window hiding behind the dresser served as the means by which Edward stole his way back into my life. The bare nightstand, cleared of its former collage of Jake-related mementos and a pumpkin I smashed a lifetime ago, now reflected a lack of inside jokes and heart-stopping gifts of unspoken endearment. In the closet, every remotely cute article of clothing I owned went unworn because my ruined body couldn't bear contact with snug fabric; instead, I depended on the loose-fitting sweatshirts and too-large, low-rise jeans rumpled in the laundry basket next to the door.

The worst, by far, was the bed. There, I'd cried out Edward's name in desperation from my dreams. Last night, the dreams turned to nightmares my memory couldn't fully recall other than a sense of heaviness settled into the pit of my stomach when I woke.

When Charlie made his fatal inquiry this morning, the heaviness gave way to near-hysterics. Knowing I had just moments before Alice bounded in or Charlie crept by the doorway to check on me, I closed my eyes, settled atop my bed, and began my battle anew.

Just as I regained my carefully preserved mental block, Alice arrived and did her usual mummification of my back. "These are coming out soon," she mused, referring to the stitches. "Soon you're not going to need me anymore."

I lowered my hoodie down over my newest set of bandages, gulping as I shook my head. "I'll still need you, Alice."

Her smile could have easily swallowed her entire face. "Thanks."

I owed her gratitude, not vice versa, but I could only manage a small smile of my own.

Not one to sit still for long, Alice hopped off the bed and grabbed my backpack off the floor. "Ready?"

I followed her out and headed toward the end of the driveway, where a large box rested against the base of the pole supporting our mailbox. Grabbing the box and a varied assortment of catalogues and mass mailings from the mailbox itself, I settled into the Jeep with Alice.

She eyed the box and smirked. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Why don't you just tell me what's in it, Miss Cleo?"

Giggling, Alice responded, "Where's the fun in that?"

I ripped open the tape at the top of the box with the tip of my house key and lifted a heavy, rectangular object from its confines. "Oh my God. It has…wheels."

Charlie meant well. He really did. But he hadn't bought new clothing or furniture for me since I was a fetus. His taste wasn't exactly mine…or anyone's.

"It's fine if you're going to the airport," she interjected with stilted optimism.

It was a suitcase. And it was cotton-candy pink, the sort of bag a six-year-old Barbie aficionada uses for a weekend trip to Grandma's house.

Charlie probably thought carrying my backpack in my current condition was too much of a chore. The way he took care of me warmed my heart, but no one at Forks High needed wheels to transport their text books. The last thing I wanted was another reminder of how I was different from the rest.

When we arrived at school, I tucked the junk mail into the front pocket of the suitcase and shoved it until it fit in my locker, planning to wheel it out with me when Charlie picked me up after detention to avoid hurting his feelings.

X X X

Even without a pink suitcase rolling behind me, I still couldn't manage traveling from class to class incognito.

Throughout the entire day, Edward's stare robbed me of invisibility. In the hallways, at lunch, during English class…every fraction of an inch my body moved, Edward's eyes followed. Yet, he never broached the outer limits of my personal space. Not once did he confront me with mention of my desperate sobfest in my driveway the night before. Even though he'd definitely seen it and surely knew what my pleading stare into the darkness meant, he'd kept his distance. We both knew I'd been looking for him, maybe even missing him.

But he'd done nothing.

Which was brilliant, really.

Because it only made me more confused.

Empty emotions no longer protected me from the truth. My anger wasn't strong enough to block the degree to which I yearned for my favorite version of Edward. However, I wasn't a saint, so unabashed kindness was out of the question. My confusion trapped me in an answerless gray area; I couldn't acknowledge Edward yet I was incapable of ignoring him.

This became obvious after my first sight of him following third period. He leaned against his closed locker door, legs stretched before him, ankles crossed, hands buried in the front pockets of his jeans. Edward became the lone image in focus; the rest of our classmates rushed by us in a blur, ignorant to the magnetism of his presence. He turned his head toward me and, even from twenty feet away, rendered me paralyzed.

Blinking once, he gave me a nod, but his face revealed not a trace of emotion. I blinked back, as if my eyes to speak to him in involuntary, indecipherable Morse Code. After several blinks by each of us, he straightened himself out and headed the opposite direction down the hallway, the tornado of copper hair atop his head standing out against the dull haze of the faceless scurrying to their next class.

With my strength directed at fighting off memories of last night's nightmares, feelings for Edward I'd once considered dormant forced their way to the forefront of my mind. The night before, on my knees in the driveway, I'd realized just how much I missed him. This admission was dangerous and possibly a colossal mistake, but it told me I could no longer pretend I hated him. Or that I didn't care. Today, I wore those not-so-simple facts all over my face. Soon, we'd stand next to each other in Forks High School's closet of a kitchen, and those feelings would be obvious to him, if they weren't already.

Had I been a smoker, my neuroses would have driven me through an entire pack by the time the school day came to a close. Instead of turning to nicotine, I resurrected a habit from my childhood and gnawed on my fingernails like a stray dog ripping meat from the bone.

When the clock on the wall ticked away 2:59 and welcomed 3:00, my nails were jagged but my resolve held steady. The plan I'd devised was ludicrous; still, I clung to it like a life preserver.

One minute at a time.

Survive in sixty-second increments.

Don't think; just wash and dry.

I wasn't ready to move forward, nor could I risk the emotional landmines awaiting me if I stepped backward. Mentally, I did my best to morph Edward into Mike Newton, my own personal living, breathing symbol of stagnant lack of interest. With Mike, things were simple. No lust. No discomfort. No hostility. No fluttering pulses. No broken hearts.

I'd played another version of this game before, trying to tell myself Edward didn't matter, that he didn't send my heartstrings into overdrive. The first time I'd played, the game was pointless and I'd lost big. Maybe I was a fool to think this time would be different. Edward wasn't living, he didn't breathe, and time spent in his company was filled with lust, discomfort, and, at times, hostility. He'd caused my heart to both flutter and break. My battle was uphill, but I had to believe that this time I could win in the end.

We were just washing dishes, for Christ's sake.

A minute at a time. Survival. Sixty seconds. Pour the damn dish soap. Rinse. Repeat.

I took calming breaths and rounded the corner, where Principal Huntley awaited me in the cafeteria.

His smile was that of the devil claiming a lost soul. "Our dishwasher is likely as old as you, Miss Swan. As such, it is quite inept when it comes to heavy-duty washing." Huntley gestured to the open kitchen door, through which I could make out piles upon piles of filthy pots and crusty serving vats. "I hope you two don't mind a few hours of heavy scrubbing."

_You two. _Too late, I realized Edward beat me to detention. I turned toward the kitchen, and there he was, propped against the doorframe. He carefully watched for signs that I'd either bolt or erupt in molten rage.

Lifting my chin, I did neither. Instead, I squared my shoulders, buried my nerves, and hauled myself over to where he waited. _Washing dishes_, I reminded myself. _Child's play_.

Our eyes met. My heart stopped. Royally, I was screwed.

But I kept walking. Toward the kitchen. Toward him. Toward death by dirty dishes, sponges, and awkward silences.

At my approach, Edward backed up from the door, into the corner of the kitchen until his hands found their way up behind his back to grip the edge of the counter. With obvious impatience, we watched each other. I waited for him to stop staring; he waited for me to speak. One word from me would supply the answer to the question that likely bounced around in his head since the night before. One syllable would tell him exactly where we stood.

The joke, however, was on him. Because even I didn't know what this—us—was anymore. What we were, what we could be. Whether it was too late or too soon.

Lies were futile, as we were beyond deception now, so I went with the ambiguous truth.

"This is what it is," I announced, not looking to the chiseled features of his face.

"Which is…?"

"Punishment."

To my right, Edward flicked on the faucet. "The worst kind," he agreed, his voice neither relieved nor nervous. I had no idea if he was being sarcastic or simply admitting he too feared the awkwardness of the next two hours.

His words gained a new level of truth when he slowly unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and tangled the tips of his fingers in the fabric as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Simultaneously, we both caught me staring at the exposed flesh of his forearms. His brow furrowed in confusion, and I'm sure my own face shared a similar expression. Whatever my mental lapse was…I couldn't identify it.

From the cafeteria, the double doors slammed, indicating Huntley had disappeared back to his cavern of certificates and carbon paper, leaving Edward and I alone in silence except for the hiss of running water.

Without speaking further, we decided he would wash, I would dry.

For the first few minutes, I ignored our past history and held onto hope that my sixty-second plan would work.

Had I been robbed of my sense of smell, sight, touch, and hearing, perhaps it would have.

However, when Edward stretched his upper body several feet across the countertop to pick up a macaroni-encrusted metal pot from a far corner, the game was over.

For the first time in months, I truly _saw_ him. Or, more accurately, his body. His shoulders. Those unfortunately exposed forearms. The base of his neck. The slight movement of his upper arms when he dipped his hands into the steaming water pooling in the sink. My heightened nerves practically combusted when my eyes absently wandered toward his waist, where the hem of his shirt rose up past the waistband of his jeans to reveal a sliver of pale skin along the small of his back.

It was perfect—smooth and scarless. Unlike mine.

The comparison proved costly, as it stirred up the one terrifying memory I had to quash. I pushed to feel something else, anything to keep that night in the sand from replaying itself in my head. My hormones heard my plea and complied, but the alternative wasn't much of an improvement. Instead of suffocating horror, I was cursed with waves of…attraction. My breath sped up as if I'd just been saved from drowning.

Attraction.

_Jesus._

It couldn't be helped. Trying to chase it off was of no avail; I still felt it: blatant, unwelcome attraction toward Edward. Edward the boy or Edward the vampire. My body didn't see a difference and would take him in any incarnation.

My abdomen contracted; fate had just delivered a hormonal punch to my gut. My mouth was dry and gaping open, telling me I was shocked. Shocked that I noticed, shocked that I cared, shocked that I felt something I'd prayed died months ago.

I barely recognized myself, the girl gawking at a previously unseen part of Edward's flesh. I'd expected to feel awkward and a little queasy during our afternoon together, but I never thought I'd feel _this_.

Wringing a towel between my fingers, I snapped my attention back to the ceiling and waited for a hollow noise to ring in the empty basin before me, signaling Edward had finished washing the first of many grimy cauldrons.

When the sound came, my eager hands jumped to their drying duty. As if my life depended on it, I ensured each crevice was bone dry.

We worked in tandem for awhile, never speaking or braving eye contact. The silence was not comfortable. Less than two feet of space separated my head from his right shoulder, and I struggled to pretend I didn't notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

A cast-iron saucepan proved the key to my undoing.

Edward washed faster than I could dry. Though I was fairly certain he slowed himself down for my benefit, eventually he'd stacked a mountain of clean pots in the waterless sink in front of me. He'd finished a saucepan, but there was nowhere left to place it, so Edward held it out in the space between us. I finished running my towel over the stock pot in my hands and set it aside. Begrudgingly, I reached into the forbidden void separating him from me. At the last second, I slipped slightly, sending my arm forward, my open palm covering his bent knuckles. They were warm from the water and clutching the pot's handle. My eyes trailed to the soap suds foaming at his wrist, sparkling hypnotically under the fluorescent lights. Realizing I'd hesitated beyond the confines of an accidental touch, I jerked my hand back and removed the instigating pan from his grip.

"Sorry," I mumbled. My response automatically burst from my throat. I hadn't meant to speak, but now that I had, I'd broken our unspoken, mutual vow of silence, granting him permission to follow suit.

"You don't owe me any apologies, Bella."

A double meaning. My tongue pushed against my cheek as I wordlessly scoffed, saying what my vocal cords couldn't: _Well played, Cullen_.

I knew what he was doing, but it didn't matter. My eyes lifted without my permission. His found me, and we spent a beat too long staring back and forth, our upper bodies angled toward the other, before the dripping saucepan slipped from my fingers.

We were both too distracted to notice until it landed on my foot and the clattered onto the linoleum.

"Ow!" I yelped, jerking us back to reality.

Edward didn't hesitate. Moving to a squatting position at my feet, his fingertips brushed lightly over the toe of my shoe. The strands of his hair weren't robbed of their ruby/chocolate glory under the cheap, artificial lighting. The earlier sight of his exposed lower back had apparently doomed me into a time machine, sending my back into the days of blissful naivety. Now nothing about him escaped my notice.

Gazing up at me with worry, he asked with gently parting lips, "Are you alright?" He sounded panicked, as if every bone below my ankle had shattered upon impact.

The pan had merely grazed my foot, so the pain was short-lived, leaving only a dull ache stemming from the joints in my big toe. By the time Edward finished his question, I felt fine. A wry, unplanned smile pulled at my lips at his needless concern over an empty pan. "I've had worse."

His eyes dwelled on the unexpected upward curvature of my lips before the rest of his face returned to distress. "Try wiggling your toes. Tell me if you feel any pain."

"Relax." I made a show of tapping my entire foot up and down. "I'm not made of glass."

Edward opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Rising to a standing position, he took the pan with him and dropped it back into the water, deciding it needed a second washing. "It could have been broken, knowing you. I was simply taking a precaution; you needn't get so defensive."

My eyebrows knitted together. With excessive volume, I shot back, "Look, I know what breaks me and what doesn't. Better than you ever could—"

"Actually, I've been to medical school," he said offhandedly as he finished washing the offending pan. "Twice."

My mouth hung open a bit. "Good for you." In speaking, I aimed for sarcasm. Instead, my voice cheated me by reflecting awe.

Sneaking a sideways glance at him, I saw that though he focused on washing, he grinned in triumph.

I was so stupid.

I'd fallen right into his trap. Because now he'd piqued my curiosity. And we were finally talking, which was likely his plan all along. My inevitable clumsiness gave him the in he'd been waiting for.

In silence or in conversation, the tension between us could be sliced with the unwashed butcher's knife sitting on the counter. So I let him win—this time—and asked with mock sympathy, "Twice? Do vampires learn slower than humans? Did you flunk out the first time around?"

Nothing offended him; he laughed and tapped his temple with his index finger. "We have photographic memories. My comprehension wasn't an issue."

I rolled my eyes. "No, of course not."

Edward leaned forward and propped both elbows on the edge of the sink to better assess the grime on the bowl before him. Still studious of his dish-washing duties, he didn't look up at me as he explained, "I graduated from Harvard med school in 1957. By the 1980s, medicinal technology had progressed significantly, so I attended Johns Hopkins for a bit of a refresher beginning in '88."

He seemed to regret his frankness and averted his eyes back to his drenched hands.

I, however, neither cared nor would let him hide from me. Now that Edward had spoken to me, I was incapable of doing the sensible thing: shutting up. Some things never changed.

He plunked the bowl, now spotless, in front of me. I swathed it with my too-damp dishtowel as I shot back, for lack of anything intelligent to say, "I was one year old in 1988. I think I'd mastered solid foods at that point, but that was probably it."

I slung a sopping dishtowel over the neck of the faucet before grabbing another from a folded stack on the shelf.

Edward studied my movements closely. Finally, he visibly relaxed and replied, "Well, I still can't handle solid food, so you've still got a leg up on me."

My plans for inane conversation were toast, as his phrasing turned my face into a sweaty tomato. All I could focus on were Edward's hands, which did nothing to erase the graphic image in my head. This unforeseen buzz between us bordered on being too much.

I needed to obliterate the silence and quash the voltage that hummed in the air. I dug up the safest response I could think of and eked out, "I've seen you eat. At lunch…haven't I?" Memories—hell, even basic thought patterns—were fuzzy at this point.

"I _can _eat. Technically. At times it's required in order to keep up appearances. But I find it grotesque and my body can't digest, so I have to…" He trailed off, likely fearing he'd repulsed me with a not-so-veiled reference to vomiting.

If only he knew I'd gladly gab about the texture, odor, and composition of puke for the next hour and a half rather than focus on the long-slumbering attraction that had stirred my hormones and left my brain frazzled and petrified.

I had to say something, so I blurted, "Oh. Well, be careful where you take care of that, or else Jessica Stanley will start a rumor you're bulimic."

"I'll keep that in mind." He handed me another saucepan, giving me a reason to look over at his face. His expression didn't display its usual brooding darkness. He looked amused, and that made me nervous. Or—more accurately—more nervous than I had been before. He was comfortable with me, possibly even…relaxed. Did I want this?

He was speaking again, and I shook my head to refocus on his words rather than his mouth. It didn't matter that I no longer spied his face; his tone of voice confirmed his playful smirk. "That doesn't disgust you?"

"The food thing?" How insulting that he considered me so fragile. "I admit, blood grosses me out. But that's it. I'm not one of your faint-of-heart, turn-of-the-century girlfriends, Edward."

I shouldn't have said it; I didn't _mean _to say it. But it was too late; I couldn't chase my words with a butterfly net in order to keep them from fluttering into his waiting ears.

He abandoned dishwashing altogether, releasing a pan into the sink with determined flick of his wrist. For a second, I thought he'd let it go in order to keep up our "this is just small talk" façade.

When his body stiffened and a look of determination crossed his face, I knew our pretending was over.

Suddenly, in a single, fluid motion, Edward pivoted on his heels and angled the right side of his upper body against the sink so that he faced me at eye-level. His elbows bent against the counter, his hip cocked. _He's too close_, my head screamed. _He's too far_, my heart countered.

I refused to mirror his change in stance, and my attempt to ignore him was cartoonish at best; I practically memorized the ceiling and was thisclose to whistling with mock innocence a la Wile E. Coyote as he set a trap for the Road Runner.

Edward leaned so that his head hovered half a foot from my ear, yet I continued to dry as if completely oblivious to the shift in his body language.

"You should keep washing." The words strained from my now-parched throat.

"I've told you before; I never had a turn-of-the-century girlfriend, Bella." Edward spoke in whisper, earnest while simultaneously sultry, as if we were lovers engaging in apologetic pillow talk. To the very pit of my stomach, anxiety wrecked me.

"Whatever; I don't care." Or, at least, I couldn't afford to.

Milliseconds before he responded, I felt his cool breath tickle the skin beneath my right ear. "I want you to care." The dishes were submerged, forgotten in the dirty water in front of him. "You're the only girl I've ever—"

"Stop." My arm nearest to him shook, the metal of the imitation-silver ring I wore on my right hand reverberating tinny beats against the iron skillet in my grip. "Just stop, Edward. Please."

His head moved over his shoulder to study the location of his original position a foot and a half away, as though looking back at the line he'd just crossed. _Too soon_, the wheels in his head turned and spoke to both of us. His body language apologized as he stood back in front of his half of the sink and re-submerged his hands back into the murky water.

Time passed, and the world's most excruciating silence began to eat me alive. As if nothing had happened, I moved for a return to our forced small talk. Urgently, too loudly, I spoke up, "So human food grosses you out?"

Embarrassed at my own candor, I glanced around, lowered my voice, and mumbled, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

The longest pregnant pause of my life passed before he granted me reprieve by way of his response. "No one can hear us, Bella. And yes, human food is repulsive."

A shy grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. "All of it?"

"All of it."

Eying the dried chunks of Velveeta on the remaining uncleaned dishes, I nervously chuckled. "Then this must be, like, your personal hell, right?" After a second, I glanced over at him.

Unabashedly, he studied me in return, a cautious smile tugging at his lips. "Not exactly."

I never responded and instead thoroughly dried six pans in roughly two minutes, effectively catching myself up.

"You're falling behind," I chided flatly, mostly because I wanted to fill our newest bout of speechlessness with more meaningless chatter.

Edward crooked an eyebrow at me and dropped another skillet into my now-vacant sink.

I picked it up and mumbled, "I meant that you don't have to slow down for my sake."

"Facades are crucial." Before I could obsess over his frankness, he continued, "Huntley won't let us walk out of here a second before five o'clock."

I played with the edge of the counter, careful not to expose my reddened face to him. My presumption was off-base; his delay had nothing to do with me. "Right. Sorry," I grumbled, as if the blame for this anxiety-filled afternoon somehow fell on me alone instead of us.

"Don't be." I needn't look over at him to know he was watching me. Waiting for me.

Frustration boiled from within; I needed him not to look at me like I could somehow save us, the us I'd always wanted but that he had denied me from experiencing. My words broke into disconnected syllables as I replied, "Don't do that."

Another pan splashed violently in the water before he turned and faced me. "Do what?"

"Deny me a normal day." Weak, pathetic, I begged him from behind my eyes, pleading to him silently in lieu of the words I couldn't say. "This is detention. We're washing dishes. Just…give me that."

His right hand clutched the counter's edge, even though I could feel that it wanted to reach for something else. Edward stepped back, his shoulder now at no risk of brushing mine. "That I can do."

He turned back to the still-soiled pots awaiting him and kept his word. We spent the remainder of our afterschool sentence on Monday washing and drying without dialogue. Though this wasn't the emotionless chore I'd hoped that it would be. His silence told me how much he was trying. After I'd asked him for space, he didn't stand as close, but some contact couldn't be avoided; fleeting brushes of his fingers against mine as we swiped pots and pans, reminding me that contact between us was more fire than ice.

During our final forty-seven minutes together, neither of us uttered a single word. I counted each minute as it passed, not as part of my sixty-second survival plan but because I found myself hating being further and further removed from hearing the gentle lilt of his voice. This fact told me I needed to get the hell out of that kitchen and into the parking lot as soon as possible.

When five o'clock blessed me, Edward and I had finished the entire stack of dirtied cookware, flatware, and a few especially disgusting serving trays. He loaded the rest into the aging industrial-sized dishwasher, which required him to bend over directly in front of my spot at the sink. I craned my neck to stare at the water spots on the ceiling as if the kitchen had turned into the Sistine Chapel.

Huntley dismissed us with borderline-sadistic remorse, but that didn't end my torture.

When I walked out of the kitchen, Edward trailed behind me, playing his role of the world's most timid stalker with achingly flawless precision.

I skipped stopping at my locker for the heinous pink suitcase and pretended that I neither saw nor felt Edward as I found my way to the parking lot. When vicious sheets of rain halted me under the eave of the front entryway, Edward made his move.

He coughed before he spoke. I wondered if it was to clear his throat or to simply warn me that he was about to push us forward, to force us into a less-intense replay of last week's episode in the park. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Thanks, but my dad's on his way."

"Good," he lied, not bothering to cloak his disappointment. Hands in his jacket pockets, he began moving away, leaving me. Edward was beyond graceful in his movements, but his departing words were off pitch and awkward as he asked, "Tomorrow, then?'

I had to be there, but I acted as if I'd show up by choice. "Sure. See you tomorrow." As I spoke, I couldn't help but study him.

He stood before me, beyond the eave and unprotected, getting drenched and blinking back heavy, bulbous drops of rainwater. In acknowledgement of my response, Edward jutted out his chin and granted me a shy smile as his good bye.

Dropping his chin toward his sternum, he turned away from me and ducked out further into the rain. I thought of the night that lay ahead and his never-wavering presence among the trees near around my yard. He'd see me, in some way or another, before tomorrow, though I wouldn't see him.

For now, I was at peace with that.

X X X

At five foot four, weighing in at a buck five sopping wet, my body shared but one commonality with that of a heavyweight fighter: its extensive experience with stitches. This round was the worst I'd experienced, but certainly not the first. Memory reminded me that after a few days, stitches itch as the skin begins to heal. During the night some would dislodge from my skin, and I'd often wake to find them loose under my t-shirt. I could feel the burn of the itch, but I refused to look in the mirror to get any sort of visual as how my skin looked and just how many stitches had left me.

Tuesday morning began with irritation. Itching and terrified from another nightmare set in sand, I woke at five in the morning and couldn't manage to con my body back into slumber. Giving up, I padded down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Despite dousing a good half-cup of cream into my mug, it still tasted like tar. I pondered subjecting myself to too-perky morning shows on television, but before I could track down the remote, a soft tap sounded against the front door.

Dread immobilized me. No one normal visited two hours before the sun rose.

I considered waking Charlie, but even his .38 couldn't do much against uninvited creatures of the night. Creeping toward the window, I prayed for vampires rather than something…hairier.

My stomach dropped at that last possibility, but then, through the glass bordering the doorframe, I saw a head of black, spiky hair. It was the best possible outcome, and suddenly, I could breathe again.

I flung open the door. "Jesus Christ, Alice! It's not even sun-up—"

"You're up anyway." She shoved a paper bag into my hands. Without looking, I knew it was something edible. "And I was bored."

Opening the bag, I spotted fresh fruit and a blueberry muffin, a vast improvement over the doughnuts she'd brought Charlie over the weekend. I shook my head and smiled, still basking in relief. "Thanks. I _was_ a bit hungry…"

She grinned back and settled herself into Charlie's seat at the kitchen table. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

Gesturing to my back, I replied, "Not the best day for the stitches." Gingerly, I seated myself across from her.

Her face looked sympathetic, but her pity wasn't something I wanted. "How are they looking today?"

I scoffed. _Like I would know._

Changing the subject, I asked a question that had riddled my brain for some time. "How old are you, Alice? I mean, how old are you _really_?"

Alice smiled and let me occupy the driver's seat of our predawn bonding session. "I was born in 1901." She spoke breezily, as if discussing the weather. "Honestly, I don't remember any of my human life."

Many facets of my life were nothing to brag about, but I was blessed with parents who loved me and the idea of losing my memories of them tore at my heart. "Does that make you…sad?"

"Not really. The moment I awoke after my change, I knew I was meant to meet Jasper. Destiny dictated that I spend life with him by my side. All I had to do was be patient and wait." Her face lit up, and her quiet joy made me feel oddly empty.

"So you two have been together for awhile?"

"Almost sixty years."

It was something an old woman would say to her grandchildren. Hearing little Alice, free of wrinkles and gray hairs, announce she'd spent six decades with the love of her life should have come off as bizarre, but it wasn't. It made me feel warm and full of hope, just as it had when my Grandma Marie would tell me stories of how she'd met my grandfather the day he'd come home from fighting in the Korean War. She'd told me the story when I was nine, back when I believed fated love was inevitable rather than borderline-impossible.

Alice noticed my absent smile and continued with her story. "We met up with the Cullens shortly thereafter and joined their family."

"And you've been there ever since?"

"We have. Esme and Carlisle, Emmett and Rosalie, Jasper and me…and Edward."

My cheeks flushed at the mention of his name. Soundlessly, I mouthed, "Oh."

I couldn't help but notice the odd number. Three pairs...and Edward. Alice's phrasing emphasized what I'd failed to really dwell on before: he was alone.

I stopped probing Alice for more information, as I now had plenty to dwell on, and munched on the fruit she brought me as dawn fought its way over the horizon against Forks' ever-present cloud cover. Juice trickled down my throat, sweet but not entirely satisfying.

Silence occupied the space between Alice and me, but unlike yesterday's detention, uneasiness evaded us. Still, as the daylight crept into Charlie's quant kitchen, I had to ask, "Is he out there?"

She exhaled and gave me a smile that equated a gentle embrace. "No. Edward and I—we have an agreement of sorts."

"Which is?"

"When I'm here, he goes."

"I figured as much." I'd once tried to fool myself into thinking Alice was Edward's lackey, but had I looked closely enough, I would have seen the truth: she wasn't the type to take sides. My initial impression of her shamed me, and even though things between Alice and me seemed at peace at the moment, the present didn't erase my past behavior.

Her attention grew more intense; she already knew what I was about to say.

But I had to say it anyway. "I'm sorry I pushed you away because of…what he did, because of what happened between him and me."

"You don't owe me an apology."

Similar words had been spoken to me the day before, but repetition didn't change the fact that I had to atone for my mistakes. Even if others had made greater ones first.

I sighed and listened to the shuffling sounds of Charlie waking above us. Time was running out. Hurriedly, I blurted, "I have a lot of anger, Alice. But sometimes I think I'm pushing it in the wrong direction. So, yeah, I do owe you an apology. A big one. You've always been nice to me. Weirdly so, but nice. And I've been…not so nice in return."

Shrugging, Alice replied, "I know stuff that you don't. I have an advantage. I've always known we'd be friends, so in my mind, we always have been. No matter what you say or do, I'll just keep bugging you."

"Right." I let out a weak laugh. "Look, I can't predict the future, but that doesn't excuse how I acted. I was kind of a jerk to you."

"_He_ was kind of a jerk to you. I get it, Bella, I do. A chain reaction of sorts." I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued, "I only learned recently what exactly he said to you, back in November." My face flushed; after that reference, I couldn't look at her. She sensed my discomfort and busied herself by straightening her skirt as she continued, "The fact you can even be in the same room as him says you're more of an adult at 18 than he is at 104."

I chuckled darkly, knowing she only knew select chapters of the whole story. "He never told you what I said to him last week, did he?"

"He didn't. And I didn't see it, either. But Bella, you don't owe me any explanations."

"I know." She was right; I didn't owe her any details of what went on between her brother and me. Which is exactly why I wanted to tell her. "I need to talk to somebody, Alice. There's no one else—no one else understands." I swallowed. "Is it okay if I talk to you?"

On Alice's face, it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "Absolutely you can."

Closing my eyes, I released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "I'm so embarrassed."

"What?" She scoffed. "Why?"

"The things I said to him, the way I acted…I was kind of mean. Really mean, actually."

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes in a sort of you-go-girl sense of female allegiance. "Good. He deserves it."

"Maybe so, but I'm better than that." I spoke half-heartedly because I wasn't sure that I was.

"Trust me, Bella. Edward had it coming." She laughed at some private joke I had no way of appreciating. I'd forgotten that the Cullens did that a lot.

"It was a nightmare. At one point, I tried to hit him." The blood behind my cheeks boiled.

Amidst my humiliation, shock overcame me when Alice's entire body contorted into jubilant laughter, the subtlety of her guarded amusement now completely abandoned. "He stopped you, of course."

I nodded grimly.

Her laughter faded. "He only prevented you from attacking him because you would have broken your hand. Had you been capable of causing Edward physical pain, he would have embraced it." She rolled her eyes. "He lives for torturing himself."

When I didn't reply, she let the subject drop. I finished eating, with Alice studying me as if I was eating my last meal before marching off to my execution.

My mouth full of muffin, I garbled, "What is it?"

"You look tired. You haven't been sleeping well."

"So?"

Arching an eyebrow, she queried, "Can I be honest with you?"

"I don't know," I whimpered, not looking her in the eye.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Bella." Alice reached forward across the table and patted the back of my hand with hers.

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning something very bad happened to you last week, and you're running away from it. Not once have you even tried to talk about it. Have you even looked at your back? At all? I think—"

In my chest, my heart raced. "I don't care what you think, Alice. It happened. It's over. End of story."

"The look on your face tells me it's not."

"I'm fine."

Alice snorted. "And I'm a Hawaiian Tropic model."

Rocking back and forth in my chair like a mental patient, I shook my head. "Not now. Please, Alice."

"Alright. Not now, Bella." Reaching across the table, she patted my hand. "But hopefully soon."

As my breathing slowed, I refused to look up from the table. "Did…Edward ask you to do this? To talk to me about…?"

"No."

"Good."

"Still mad, huh?"

My gut reaction was to respond, "He lied to me."

"He did."

With the hand I wasn't using to keep my breakfast from escaping from my digestive system, I played with the frayed edge of the placemat in front of me. Not looking up, I muttered, "I kind of want to punch him in the face."

"I can relate." A wry grin crossed her face.

The half-smile I flashed back at her was vacant.

"I don't know if I'm mad, like angry-mad, or just insane-mad." I looked her in the eye. "I don't trust him, Alice. Not at all. I don't care what his motivations were, whether he thought he was doing the right thing. He. Lied. And then he just sat back and never fought for me. For months, I was a wreck, and he didn't care."

Alice winced, but just as I took her reaction as a sign she pitied me, she spoke and told me her compassion was reserved for someone else. "At night, Jasper and I purposefully kept our distance from Edward, after what happened between you two." She spotted the crease between my eyebrows and explained, "Jasper's an empath; he feels what those around him feel. He can change emotions as well, but Edward's got his head so far up his ass that even Jasper could only do so much." She exhaled with emphasis. "Being around Edward after he cut off contact with you was unbearable for Jasper. The self-loathing?" She whistled softly. "Unbelievable. I had it better than Jasper, but not by much. Edward was always digging through my head for your future, to ensure that you'd stay safe. The second we returned to the house in the morning, Edward was always right there, searching my thoughts without as much as a hello." She chuckled. "Too bad I didn't let him."

"How does that work? You can, like, block him?"

"Yeah. But it took decades of practice, and it's still a _lot_ of work. Imagine having to fill your head with nonsense, nonstop. I've read the dullest textbooks—in Mandarin. I recite Biblical verses endlessly. Emmett's not as good at shutting Edward out as I am, but, like I told you, ABBA is his weapon of choice. So Edward spends less time digging through his head than mine. Although that has more to do with the fact that I'm privy to a certain someone's future--" she gave me a knowing look—"so I'm vastly of more interest to him."

I sounded feeble as I murmured, "It's not his place to watch out for me."

"Bella," Alice began slowly, "a couple of months ago, you sprained your wrist in the parking lot. That nearly killed him, but he let it happen because he thought a few weeks in a sling would trump you having a vampire sweetheart. He hates himself that much. But even he has to believe that he has a place in your life after you go and get clawed up by a—" she lowered her voice into a whispered hiss as if Charlie could somehow hear us from the upstairs bathroom "—werewolf. Edward thinks he failed you."

I willed myself to speak, all the while hoping she'd sense I couldn't take much more of this. "_That_ had nothing to do with him."

"I know that, but—"

"Let's not talk about this anymore." My elbows propped me up against the table just as my fingertips found my temples, easing the headache from the taboo topics we'd touched on in the span of minutes.

"Fair enough." Alice pinched the tip of her index finger to the pad of her thumb and drew them in an invisible line across her mouth. "My lips are zipped. Topic closed."

Tossing the now-empty paper bag Alice brought into the trash, I headed toward the stairs, calling over my shoulder, "Tape me up?"

She was at my heels without another word. "Sure thing."

We eased into our routine, after which Alice offered me another ride to school. I gladly accepted, thrilled to skip driving in Charlie's police cruiser. That is, until I opened the front door and saw what was parked in the driveway.

Yesterday, Alice had driven a monstrous Jeep belonging to her brother, the infamous Emmett I'd met at Newton Outfitters months ago. But today was different.

"Oh." I stopped short on the porch. Had Alice been a graceless human, she would have crashed right into me.

"Emmett's up north hunting with Rosalie. Besides…it's just a car, Bella."

No, it wasn't. It was _his _car.

I hated that it frightened me—he wasn't even in the damn thing—but I couldn't help myself. That Volvo was a haunted house on wheels, waiting to plague me with ghosts of my lovelorn past.

Still, Alice was right. It was a freaking car, and I was an idiot.

Jerking open the passenger door, I slid inside.

Like a semi-reformed coke addict, I sniffed the air constantly during our short drive. I had no shame. Edward's scent was everywhere, blanketing me, but I found that I wanted more—I needed it to smother me completely. After all, the smell of him was harmless; it didn't make empty promises or hold the remote possibility of ill-advised physical contact. It reminded me of the idyllic ignorance of my past life and put me at ease. The sweetness cloaked me back then, when he'd lean in close and say something unsettlingly perfect. More-recent memories were devoid of that captivating hybrid of honey, bar soap, and cream—once he'd walked away, he took it with him and left me inhaling car fumes, dirty rainwater, and the generic scent of bleach and floor wax.

The drive ended, and I stepped out into the morning drizzle, again missing what I never really had.

As Alice and I headed to Spanish, she glanced over at me and asked, "You going to be alright this afternoon? Trapped in that kitchen with him again?"

I thought of my upcoming detention and realized that his familiar, luscious scent would wash over me again before the day was through. That idea warmed me, and I struggled to right that mistake.

Tightening my arms around my middle, I answered, "I'll survive."

I did just that until I opened my locker after my final class of the day. I planned on taking my things with me to detention in order to make a quick get away once Huntley released us at five o'clock.

Charlie had asked about his gift to me the day before when I arrived at the cruiser empty-handed. This meant the pink luggage would have to make a public appearance, but I didn't really care what Edward thought of my accessorizing prowess at this point.

I dragged the suitcase out of my locker, pushing and pulling until it tumbled onto the floor, upside down, wheels spinning in midair. The mail I'd tucked inside two mornings ago scattered everywhere, and I fought shooting pains in my back to bend over and pick it up.

My hands gripped a newsletter from some policeman's union to which Charlie belonged, a catalogue from Bass Pro Shop, some sort of packet on student housing from Dartmouth, and a letter.

A letter with no postage or postdate.

The envelope blank except for my first name.

Scrawled in the handwriting of Jacob Black.

**Chapter End Notes**: I totally Googled how to spell "Wile E. Coyote." I'm not ashamed. Hope you bought why Bella would realize her attraction to Edward...the Jake thing is eating her alive, so she welcomes distraction.

As always, thank you for the PMs and reviews. I don't expect anyone to even read this, so anything beyond that never ceases to floor me. I'm forever humbled by all of you.


	34. Tightrope

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: Tightrope**

Either _he_ or one of _them _stood at the end of my driveway and shoved an unwanted letter into my mailbox.

The envelope had no postdate, no address, no stamp. Its face bare except for a sickeningly familiar scrawl denoting my first name.

My clammy palms forced the envelope to curl around my fingers. Staring down at the slip of paper in my hand, something in my head snapped, and my joints contracted into a fist, crumpling the unread letter into a haphazard wad.

There was no time for this; Principal Huntley expected me in the kitchen in less than two minutes.

God forbid I disappoint him.

To the cafeteria, I marched with the emotionless resolve of a dexterous robot. My panicked rage only evidenced itself in my breathing, which was wild and just short of accompaniment by flames.

I slammed a flattened palm into the crash bar, and the cafeteria door swung open. Just barely, I made it on time. Dismay flashed across Huntley's face.

My limited supply of patience couldn't be wasted on his ego trip, so I flung the pink suitcase into a corner and stormed right past him.

"Glad you could make it, Miss Sw—"

The kitchen door banged shut behind me before he could finish.

Edward felt me coming far before he laid eyes on me. His back was to the sink, his body facing me, expectant and braced for a fight. His expression, though, didn't hold the confrontational nature evident in his body language; rather, his face clouded over with questions and concern.

My own body dropped its rigid façade. Now that I'd reached my destination, my chest heaved and my eyes stung with tears I refused to shed. My view of Edward as the enemy had been a welcome shield from terrors I couldn't begin to deal with. But the letter…that letter changed everything.

Jake wouldn't let this go.

Jake wouldn't let _me _go.

And thanks to a single envelope, I couldn't let go of what he'd done. The memory was front and center now, no longer isolated to nightmares.

I needed help. I craved validation that I'd get through this.

Reluctantly, I realized I knew exactly where to find it.

Standing before me, Edward's eyes were wide, but he said nothing. His invasive impatience in the park last week now seemed so out of character; today, he let me lead, giving me a sinking feeling that he'd wait me out forever.

Tired of subtext, I rasped, "We need to talk."

He nodded, eyes still quizzical, but before he could respond, Huntley forced his underwhelming presence upon us. In the doorframe, his body served as a diminutive doorstop. He cleared his throat and began, "Insubordination will _not_ be tolerated—"

"She understands." Edward's voice sounded nearly feral in its intensity, but his tone had nothing on the vicious, inhuman expression on his face. _Go away_, it snarled.

_Gladly_, responded the sheer cowardice in Huntley's eyes.

Confronted with the unforgiving blackness of Edward's stare, Huntley's bully bravado shrunk away; underneath, the meek shadow of the man he truly was revealed itself. Nodding curtly and saying nothing, he backed up until the door swung shut in his own face. For the second time in less than a minute, Edward and I were alone

When I turned back to him, his menacing exterior—still directed toward the door—had yet to falter. Yet, he didn't intimidate me. I knew his expression would soon soften, and just as the realization crossed my mind, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath to calm himself. When he reopened them, they begged for unnecessary forgiveness. My face remained unchanged from its earlier urgency, telling him I could care less that he just terrorized Forks High School's joke of an authority figure.

Too carefully, Edward ventured, "You have…questions?"

Adrenaline pushed me forward. Stepping to the center of the kitchen, I responded, "Boat loads."

Edward stood before me, more focused on trying to get a read on me than hearing my answer. His gaze fixed on the letter balled in my still-quivering fist. "What—"

"It's nothing." I darted my hand behind my back and shoved the envelope into the back pocket of my jeans. Today, the questions belonged to me; the atmosphere was mine to control.

He raised his eyebrows, challenging me. "Then why are you shaking?"

Through gritted teeth, I repeated, "It's. Nothing."

"I don't believe you." He took a step toward me.

"I don't care what you believe." I didn't bother to step back. "This isn't about you"

We stared each other down before I caved and shuffled away from him. I took the longest route to the sink in order to avoid brushing my body against his in the tight quarters. After reaching the spot where he'd stood when I'd first entered the room, I spoke to the dingy grout between the backsplash tiles. "I want to wash today."

"Then wash." Edward took his place at my side before I could prepare for the close proximity.

He stood so near that I could see the individual black threads of his shirt. This wouldn't do. "Move to your left."

Confused, he stepped a few inches away from me.

"Keep going."

"Bella—"

"Just do it." I purposefully turned toward the sink.

From the corner of my eye, his body shifted again, further to the left. The change in position put us more than an arm's length apart.

Lifting the handle on the faucet, I released a steady stream of water into the sink, exhaled, and began my interrogation. "You lurk outside my house. I need to know how often."

I had the nerve to stare up at him, but he didn't push his luck by looking back.

"Every night." Edward paused, his downturned expression hesitant. "I don't have a choice. Not knowing if you're safe…it eats away at me."

A strand of green liquid disappeared into the water as I poured the dish soap. My unfocused eyes stared through it while I struggled to steady the next words out of my mouth. "And you being out there—that makes me safe?"

"Absolutely."

My nerves demanded an outlet for my anxious energy; vigorously, I scrubbed the first pot. "How do you know that? How do you know that some…thing else isn't around? That it can't get to me when you're looking somewhere else? "

"Heightened senses." Edward turned his body so that it faced the left side of mine as I faced forward, trying to avoid making eye contact as his next words robbed our conversation of its ambiguous pretenses. "I can hear them breathe and every step they take within several hundred feet, maybe more. I'll see and smell the filth of their coats long before they can ever pose a real threat. I'll hear their thoughts before they can even dream of getting close enough to touch you. If he does anything, if he comes anywhere near you, I'll know, Bella."

The envelope burned a hole in my pocket. "You won't. Not necessarily."

I dropped the now-washed pan into Edward's half of the sink and found another to occupy me.

Edward ignored the dripping pot and leaned over me, his breath chilling my left temple. "I will. I promise."

The water was still running, now nearly overflowing from the basin. When I returned my hands to the sink, my fingertips shrank away as they suddenly noticed the near-scalding temperature.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. As I frantically wiped my hands on my jeans as if the denim held magical cooling powers, the one thing that actually did reached out from underneath my palms and circled around my fingers.

Compared to the boiling water, Edward's hands were frozen to the bone. Yet, the cold was a mere afterthought to the crackling static I felt as his palms covered my stinging fingertips. The burning sensation lessened at his touch, but logic told me to jerk my extremities back to my own side of the sink. Yet, recent events served as a reminder that listening to my head proved just as an unlikely road to solace as following my heart.

In the end, my hands stilled in his and I did nothing but gape up at him.

"I should wash," he murmured. "You're going to get burned."

Notwithstanding the steaming water, he was absolutely right.

His hands continued to gently rub back and forth over mine.

My fingers no longer stung. "Thanks," I murmured.

"You're welcome." He didn't let go, nor did I pull away.

My eyes snapped shut as I re-anchored myself to reality. "You're not as effective as you think you are."

He froze, the pads of his fingers pressing slightly in to the back of my hands. My change in tone told him I wasn't talking about the burn.

There was no other way to get the truth out there, so I just said it. "Sometime between Sunday and this morning, he—or one of his…friends—hand-delivered a letter to my mailbox."

Withdrawing my hands, I wrapped my arms around my waist and waited.

It didn't take long.

"He _what_?"

"You heard me," I whispered.

"That's not possible. I would have—" Cutting himself off, Edward paced back and forth, covering and recovering the small expanse of linoleum with long, frantic strides.

Suddenly, he stopped short. "No one's watching the house when you're at school. It must have happened yesterday, during the day. The smell must havde dissipated by the time I arrived." Edward shook his head as if mentally chastising himself. Then, he strode back over to me. "I promise you, I won't slip up like this again."

I'd begun to fall into a daze, but his apology ripped me from the numbness I craved. "Excuse me?"

"This is my fault. I should have foreseen something like this."

"Don't blame Alice. She told me she can't always see everything."

"No, it's not that; we don't think she can see them at all," he muttered, destracted, before his tone darkened with urgency. "I'm talking about me, Bella. I should have thought this through. I should have seen them trying something like this. I knew he was calling you, but I figured your father was on top of that. Contacting you through the mail…I should have known better."

"I can handle a letter, Edward," I lied, knowing I couldn't deal with anything Jake-related at this point. But Edward didn't need to know that. "What I can't handle is him showing up at my house. I can't see him right now. I just…can't."

Edward's voice, quiet and heavy with guilt, answered, "I'm so very sorry, Bella."

"Please stop saying that," I snapped. "I'm not telling you about what happened as part of some guilt-tripping scheme to make you feel bad."

"Don't you think I know that?" he shot back. "Don't you think I know _you_? You'd never stoop… Look, I can't stop saying it because I am incapable of letting it go. I can't forget, and nothing I can ever do or say can fix the fact I wasn't there to keep him from you when you needed me."

Exasperation pushed me to ask, "Do you take some sort of sick pleasure in blaming yourself for everything?"

"As of late, everything does seem to fall on my shoulders." Had I not heard his voice, I would have thought he was kidding. As it was, his tone was steeped in earnestness and devoid of sarcasm.

"God, Edward. Get over yourself." With that single slip of my tongue, the discussion dove into perilous waters.

The woe-is-me look on Edward's face twisted into disbelief. "I'm sorry?"

I was on the verge of exploding, and his never-ending apologies were proving to be my own personal detonator. Nonetheless, I wouldn't take my words back; I was on a roll. "There you go again with the pointless apologies."

His disbelief became outrage. "Pointless?" Edward stormed back over to the sink, and I literally jumped out of his way to avoid contact as he took over my place at the washing station. Grabbing a metal serving vat, he attacked it with a mass of steel wool, venting his frustration on the lunch hour's left-over lasagna. The container ripped in half before he made any real progress. "Pointless?! Are you honestly suggesting that protecting you is pointless? That apologizing for wrecking your life is pointless? That wanting to atone for one of the greatest mistakes of my life is pointless?"

With a clanging crash, the two halves of the splintered vat were chucked into a dark corner of the kitchen, instantly forgotten as Edward and I faced each other.

"I am _not_ your charity case." Purple tinged my face as simultaneous anger and humiliation consumed me. "I'm saying what happened with…him is none of your business. It's not your fault, and you're under no obligation to hide out in the woods to make sure I'm okay. I wish you'd quit apologizing because—" I swallowed and pushed the words out from somewhere deep in my gut "—because what he did and what you did are two very separate things."

Both hurt like hell, but I refused to link any fault between them.

Edward's back stiffened, but he didn't turn toward me. Though his face hid from view, his tone of voice told me he was enraged. "And you put us both in the same category? He's despicable for literally ripping you apart, but I'm no better for rejecting you?"

The heels of my hands flew to my eyes. I couldn't look at him, not when he spoke so brazenly about the two most emotionally devastating moments of my life. Yet, a sick part of me reveled in this fight between us, this twisted distraction from the wake-up call curling out over my back pocket. This conversation would have been unbearable yesterday, but now I begged for it to drown me. I dove in further, asking in a hiss, "Was that the mistake, then? Rejecting me? Or was it that you failed to see that my ex-boyfriend would morph into some rabid werewolf and attack me?"

"I didn't want to refuse you, Bella. You know that."

"But do you _regret _it? Do you admit that you were wrong in deciding for me that I couldn't handle being a part of your life?"

"I did to protect you!" he erupted. "I wanted better for you."

"I didn't _want_ better. I wanted you." My voice broke. We'd been through this argument before, yet the wounds still felt fresh. Pissed that he was deflecting from answering, I jerked us back to angrier territory. It proved so much easier than the stale, heartbreaking truth. "So basically, you're saying you're not sorry for things you said? That if not for everything that's happened since, you'd do it all over again."

"Bella, I don't want to waste my time with you rehashing this conversation." Edward sighed. "You claimed to have questions. Well, so do I. Last week, in the parking lot, you told him you forgave him." The intensity in his eyes deflated. Suddenly, he looked every bit an innocent seventeen-year-old boy. "I don't understand how you can do that for him, given what he did to you, yet when it comes to us, you won't even look at me."

I found Edward's discarded dishtowel on the counter and wrung it between my fingers. I should have assumed drying duties, but our verbal tennis match exhausted me.

Exhaling, I whispered, "I haven't forgiven him. You have to know that already. I just wanted him to go away. I can't even think about him, about what he did, without feeling physically ill." Dropping the towel to the floor, I burrowed my hands into the pouch of my sweatshirt and continued, "I used to think of him as my constant, the person I trusted most in the world. And now—now he is the focus of every single one of my nightmares. That night just keeps replaying over and over in my head, and I try and tell myself it's just Jake and he'd never repeat his mistake. But I don't even know what he is anymore. Even in…human form, he's not the person I used to know. His smile's all wrong, and he looks at me like my forgiveness is a prize to be won. He makes me…sick."

My breathing somehow operated in reverse, robbing my lungs of air instead of filling me. Gasping in air that gave me no relief, I choked out the long-awaited answer to his question, "So no, Edward. I don't forgive him."

Our eyes met. The look on his face told me he'd jump in front of a bus if I'd asked him to, so when he spoke again, I believed him. "You don't ever have to worry about him again. Bella, I promise."

I shook my head, knowing now was the time to ask. "Look, what I wanted to say is that you don't owe me anything."

He opened his mouth to object but slowly closed it when I held up my hand.

"But I am asking you for a favor."

"Anything." It was by no means an exaggeration; had I asked him for his arm, I had no doubt that in that moment, he'd rip it off himself and hand it to me.

"Keep him away from me. Just until the end of the summer. Then I'll head off to college, and this will be over."

Edward nodded absently, seemingly shocked that I wanted him around in any capacity. After a few moments, he lifted his eyes. "I won't leave you. Not unless you ask me to."

All I could think of to say was "Thank you." I motioned for him to move aside, which he did without question. Taking his place at the sink and never lifting my eyes, I reached through the suds and scrubbed whatever I could get my hands on.

"Bella."

Steel wool bristled against the underside of my knuckles.

"Bella, look at me."

"I can't." I dropped everything but kept my gaze on the gentle lapping of the dishwater. "It's bad enough that I have to ask you for favors. Don't make me see that look on your face."

"It's not a favor. I want to be there for you." From behind me, his hand reached around my side and rested at the edge of the sink, almost brushing against my hip. "And I don't have a look."

"Yeah, you do. You do this thing with your eyes. This 'I'm broken without you,' kitten-in-the-rain garbage. It's…distracting."

Edward didn't find me funny. "Bella, _nothing _about me is kitten-like." His voice now had a defensive edge, which I preferred it to the hypnotizing cadence of his whispers.

"Fine. Just forget I said anything. We need to finish these dishes by five."

Ignoring me, he repeated in a whisper, "Look at me."

Slowly, I complied.

Staring down at me, determination dominated his entire face. He was right; he was certainly no kitten. "I've had my doubts about…a lot things between us, Bella. But I can say now, with all honesty, that I can keep you safe. I need you to know that."

I nodded and didn't object when he leaned in over my shoulder. His right hand moved from the edge of the sink and patted the empty expanse of countertop next to us. "Sit."

"No," I muttered robotically. "I have to wash."

His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and then darted back to his side. "No, you don't." Gesturing to the counter, he smiled gently down at me.

Sighing, I turned my back to the counter. My arms braced against the ledge as I moved to jump up. I winced as my upper arms attempted to hoist my body and skin pulled across my back. Before I knew what was happening, Edward's hands were on each side of me, at my waist, lifting me for a second, maybe two until I sat atop the counter, my legs swinging against the cabinets.

Before I could bat an eyelash, his touch left me and he resumed his position at the sink. When he felt me watching him, he turned and winked. "Watch what I can do."

My jaw fell open as his hands moved in a blur under the running tap. His movements were nothing short of astounding; he alone operated as a one-man assembly line on fast-forward, snagging dirty dishes from the counter and scrubbing them within half-seconds. Mountains of iron, metal, aluminum were cleared of their grime in under three minutes.

Once he worked a towel over the final skillet, he shut the faucet off with his fingertip and turned to me, a playful but smartass expression lighting his face.

Reluctantly, I sung his praises. "You put my Maytag to shame."

"That's the best you can do?" He smirked back at me.

I was beyond grateful to pretend I hadn't just bared my soul to him minutes earlier. "Um…forget medical school; you missed your calling as a dishwasher?"

He laughed softly. "Better."

I hopped down from the counter. "So…thanks for that. My hands were getting prune-y."

Edward's fingers, unwrinkled but glistening with suds, twisted around the band of his watch. "We still have awhile before we're allowed to leave."

"Oh," I realized. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"You mentioned having questions…any left?" He spoke casually, but I feared that any further inquisition by me would undo the unspoken détente between us.

"No, that's okay."

"You can ask me anything, you know."

"I got the information I needed," I muttered dismissively.

Edward, however, would not be dismissed. "Which was what exactly?'

I unknotted the drawstring on my hoodie. "I just…needed to know that he couldn't get to me." Doing my best to look as if I still held some control over the situation between us, I met his stare with what I hoped was a confident one of my own. "And I know that now."

"Good." He paused, using the silence to watch me closely. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

It was a vow, not a threat. I exhaled, able to truly breathe for the first time all day. "Good."

Edward smiled at me, but I wasn't fooled. The room was too quiet; so much remained that he wanted to say.

Thankfully, he let those unwelcome subjects hang in the air but never verbalized them. The remainder of our detention passed with uncomfortable silence. We leaned against the counter on opposite sides of the kitchen. When Edward stared out the window, I stared at him. When he felt my gaze and turned to me, I averted my eyes to the floor. But I knew he caught me every single time.

Huntley popped his head in at three after five to inform us we were free. He shot one look at the dismembered vat in the corner but didn't say a word. Edward pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, withdrew several bills, and shoved them in Huntley's hand. "We're square," he said.

Moving past our quivering principal, he flashed me an easy smile. "Ready?"

Without waiting for an answer, he held the kitchen door open for me, allowing me to exit first with him following. I wanted to die as I pulled the pink suitcase from against the cafeteria wall as we headed toward the parking lot.

He chuckled under his breath. Groaning, I warned, "Don't say it."

"Wasn't planning on it." The mirth in his voice was contagious, reminding me how easy things once were between us.

With one hand on the extended handle of the suitcase, my other arm struggled with the weight of my backpack. I thought about slinging it onto my back, but before I could move, Edward was there, the bag gone from my hands and hanging from his shoulder.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Like the day before, we headed outside together. Unlike yesterday, we walked side by side. To a casual observer, we might pass for friends.

Parked against the curb, the cruiser waited. I turned my back to the parking lot and motioned for Edward to return my bag to me.

Leaning over, Edward unzipped the suitcase and shoved my backpack inside. As he ran the zipper closed, he smiled up at me. "He'd understand if you told him you didn't like it."

"His taste sucks, but it's the thought that counts." I looked over Edward's shoulder to where Charlie threw me a wave from the car. By way of an explanation, I offered, "He hasn't bought me a present since he surprised me with Barbie's Dream House for my seventh birthday. Hauling this thing around for a little while is the least I can do."

For less than a second, Edward's lips twitched into a small grin. "Good night, Bella."

"Night, Edward."

The second he left my side, my thoughts returned to the emotional dynamite curling up in my back pocket. Edward's departure signaled an end to my distractions. At some point tonight, I'd have to deal with it, even if that only meant crumpling the envelope up and tossing it into the garbage.

Wracking my brain for an escape, I came to the conclusion there wasn't one. Eventually, this thing with Jacob had to be addressed. My spirits fell as I wished in vain for one more night of numbness and denial.

X X X

I cooked Charlie an elaborate dinner of halibut and artichoke salad. On my Calculus homework, I reworked each problem four times to ensure absolute accuracy. I vacuumed every square inch of my bedroom. But all the while, every nerve in my body focused on the thin paper folded in my pocket.

Eleven o'clock came and went. Eventually, I ran out of things to occupy me and ended up sitting still as a stone at the foot of my bed. The room was completely dark, but it didn't matter; I didn't need light to tell me that damn letter begged to be read.

I wanted to throw it in the trash and be forever rid of it—except I knew that if I didn't read it, some other desperate plea for attention would take its place. He'd write again. Or call. Or e-mail. Maybe he'd come up with another scheme to deliver his message in person. I'd seen everything I needed to know the day Jake showed up in the parking lot and demanded an audience for his weightless apology: This Jacob wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

A small part of my brain tried to convince me otherwise, that maybe this letter was a final attempt at atonement, one last goodbye before he faded from my life forever. If that were the case, maybe I could stop looking over my shoulder and begin to heal.

So desperately, I wanted to believe that was the case. Perhaps some part of the version of Jake I knew remained. Maybe I didn't have to fear him; maybe this was really just good-bye.

After years of friendship, did I owe him closure?

No answer came to me, as separating the conflicting images of Jake in my head was impossible.

Hands shaking, I flicked on a lamp and ran my index finger under the flap of the envelope, ripping it open.

Inside, two pieces of notebook paper folded over a photograph.

I read the note first, keeping the photo flipped facedown on my quilt.

_Bells,_

_You won't let me talk to you. So this will have to work for now. _

_What I wanted to say is that I'm sorry. I'll say it a hundred times if I have to. _

And he did. Over and over, messier with each repetition, Jake had scrawled those two words until the phrase filled the entire page. It felt even emptier when spouted in mass quantities.

I turned the paper over, my heart in my throat and found that once the "I'm sorrys" concluded, another paragraph awaited me.

_Things between us aren't the same, but you have to know that I'll always take care of you. I'm a better person now. I'm stronger, smarter, older. I can be what you always wanted. Please trust me. It's fate that we love each other. Things in Forks aren't the same anymore, and now I can protect you from anything that might hurt you. Before I made a mistake. A big one. I hate what I did, but you have to know that I'm getting stronger and more in control of myself every day. It won't happen ever again. I just need a little more time. Then we can be together, and I'll work forever for your forgiveness. And I'll protect you from them._

_I love you, Bells. I'll always be here for you._

_Jake_

The life drained out of my face as I flipped over the photo. It was us, Jake and me, last Fourth of July. We'd been dating for about two months. Our hands were entwined, and in his free one, Jake held a sparkler. My head was on his shoulder, and our faces mirrored each other: our tongues sticking out, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. We looked happy, the best of friends.

One look at our innocent camaraderie, and I lost it. My shoulders shook, and my face buried in my waiting palms. The old Jake was dead to me now. As was the girl grinning at his side.

She never loved him the way she should have.

He would never understand her in the way she deserved.

The man/monster who took the boy's place didn't understand this. He didn't comprehend what it took to truly fall in love as equals; he couldn't see that love cannot be forced. He lived confined to the feelings in his own heart, unaware that love was not communicable like a disease.

The letter shook me with its arrogance and misunderstanding. Jake had no idea his words were the opposite of comforting. He was either too young or too stubborn to know that he needed to show me his apology, not scrawl it obsessively ad nauseum until I felt buried alive.

If he took the selfless route and walked away, only then would I accept his "I'm sorry's." He couldn't force love, and he certainly couldn't strong-arm his way to forgiveness.

The photograph broke my heart, reminding me of the friendship we could never reclaim. With only a few sheets of flimsy paper, the past we lost and the future we were never meant to have suffocated me. From head to toe, I shivered and convulsed until I stood abruptly. Ripping the letter to shreds, I stared for a second at the pile of white loose-leaf at my feet before fleeing my room.

My frantic tunnel vision blurred the detail of my journey down the stairs. In my head, I thought of who paced somewhere amidst the trees and saw a deceptively easy answer to escaping this waking nightmare.

Quickly, I shoved off that possibility. Instead, I thought of my usual safety net—Renee—and briefly considered weaving some convoluted story so I could somehow beg her for advice. But, because I could never explain my werewolf ex-boyfriend couldn't understand "go away" after he literally clawed the sanity out of me, there was nothing of substance I could ever share with my mom.

I was on my own. My face felt hot, my breathing labored. The bandages gripping my skin suddenly carried the weight of cast iron rather than latex. The house was too small. I needed escape. Opening the front door half way to avoid its usual squeak, I squeezed myself out into the night.

The air outside was warm, not quite the delicate, lilting breeze of early summer but no longer chilly with the never-ending drizzle of a Washington winter. I stomped over to the porch swing, knowing Charlie was out cold upstairs, on the other side of the house. Rocking back and forth, I neurotically focused on the rise and fall of the seat beneath me rather than the week-old memories I needed to rebury in my subconscious. After fifteen minutes, the rocking awoke the pricks the stitches made in my skin, so I shuffled to the stoop and studied the sky.

Clouds crowded each other as they hastily crossed the moon, causing navy light to flicker and shift the angles of shadows playing on the ground. It was beautiful, and I felt strangely comforted by the fact that I wasn't witnessing it alone.

He was there—somewhere—just as he had been every night. Isolating himself to the woods, giving me space. But still watching.

My thoughts drifted to my last conversation with Alice and her mention of the seven Cullens.

Three pairs…and Edward.

He was alone. I didn't know a thing about being a vampire or what it was like to live an immortal, endless life. But being alone—and loneliness itself—was something with which I was all too familiar.

I felt it now. I was at the apex of months, hell, a _lifetime _of solitude. For years, aside from my mother, I knew only one friend. My time with Jacob had been effortless, up until the last months prefacing our end, but never complete. In the photo crumpled upstairs on my bed, we looked like buddies, kids who earned comments along the lines of "aren't they sweet" rather than "those two are made for each other."

He didn't understand me, not then and certainly not now. Nothing reminded me of that more than the papers torn to pieces on my bedroom floor. Jake's note screamed at me in blue ink to listen to his empty apologies, many of which were veiled, unwelcome warnings.

I needed something—someone—to swoop in and steal my thoughts away from that letter and the emotional hell to which it would inevitably lead.

Only one person would understand how it unraveled my carefully constructed shield, but then again, he too had unraveled me. I was practically two halves of one person, frayed into pieces, feeling too sorry for myself to try and mend.

Usually, thinking things through in isolation was nothing new for me. I handled everything with maturity and reason, and I did it alone until I met Edward. From that point on the loneliness, the maturity, the reason—all of it vanished, leaving me a confused mess. Nothing I'd been capable of before him was an option. I didn't relish in being alone like I used to; instead, loneliness ate at my soul and eventually drove me mad.

I wondered if he felt it too, the loneliness, the longing, the emptiness.

I needed to know if he did. I still had so much bitterness left, but he was the only one who seemed to understand. Below me, I walked a tightrope, anger and mistrust on one side, hope and yearning on the other.

My better judgment fought to keep my lips sealed. However, it had done me very little good in recent months, so it lost. I slipped from the tightrope and fell hard with no net to catch me.

Hoarsely, I whispered a prayer, a curse. "Edward."

A curtain of clouds cleared, shining a bluish hue of moonlight across the yard. Directly in front of me, fifty feet away, across the street, the tree branches parted.

Edward wasn't wearing a jacket, just jeans and a shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, identical to how he looked earlier that afternoon. He crossed the street, onto Charlie's property. His movements were deliberate and slow, as if waiting for me to verbally halt him.

I didn't move. My eyes trained on him, his on mine. He never sped his gait, but it didn't take him long to reach the stoop.

When he sat next to me, I didn't turn my head so we could see each other. Instead, I watched the clouds race in the night sky and closed my eyes in the brief moments the breeze swept tendrils of my hair against my cheeks.

We sat in questioning silence for several minutes, neither of us willing to speak. While Jake lacked patience, Edward was the master of the waiting game. The obligation to initiate something was on me. I didn't trust him, anger and embarrassment virally flooded me, so I kept my breathing even and slipped into the past, when all it took for me to feel complacent was to be with him. I quieted the ghosts of recent months and enjoyed the fact Edward was _here_, less than three feet away and showing no signs of a premature exit.

After awhile, I felt his eyes on my face. With the moon lost behind cloud cover again, the darkness gave me nowhere to focus but Edward. Yet, I didn't turn.

Squinting at the brown grass, dead at the base of the concrete stoop on which we sat, I cracked the silence. I needed it to break because despite the mistrust and animosity, I needed him. "I read the letter."

He said nothing. For that, I was grateful.

"He says he's sorry."

Edward's hands balled into fists. Still, he spoke not a word.

Which was for the best, as I had enough to say for both of us. "He wrote it a hundred times. Literally." It felt as if I were choking, but speaking the truth felt like power, so I kept on. "But he was saying it for himself, not for me. Every time I think about what happened, I feel like I don't control my own life anymore. I keep remembering him pinning me to the ground, and me fighting, not being able to stop it from ripping into me. I tried so hard to be honest with him, to be brave, and he ripped all of that away and made me feel the weakest I've ever felt in my entire life. He wouldn't let me go…and he still won't."

I ran my fingers along the edge of the stoop and waited for Edward to make some sort of valiant threat against Jake in my name.

When he kept quiet, I knew he was giving up the power over this moment, bestowing upon me the control that had been taken from me.

So I took it. I grabbed it and ran, except that instead of running away from the thoughts I'd tried so desperately to bury, I finally approached them head-on.

My throat was dry when I spoke, giving my voice an unfamiliar, gravely quality. "I still can't think about what happened between him and me. If I don't let it in, it's like it's not even real, like someday I'll wake up in Phoenix to my mom burning French toast and never have known Forks at all. I wouldn't know what it was like back when Jake was this sweet kid who hung on my every word or what it felt like when he kissed me. I wouldn't know what it was like to break his heart and then have him break me."

I rocked back and forth, terrified of what I was about to say next but knowing nothing could stop me from saying it. "But then, if I never came here, I never would have met you. I try so hard to wish you out of my life…because sometimes I think you could have made me happy. I hate that you wouldn't let me have that." I sniffled but refused to fall into the trap of crying. "Maybe that's why it's so much easier to hate you than it is to hate him."

From my periphery, I saw Edward's head snap up.

I couldn't let him say a word; things needed to be said, but I had to be the one to say them. "With Jake, despite everything, we were friends. And while I miss that version of him, I don't crave his company. I don't feel this obsessive pull to him. I only want him gone; I don't want to save any relationship we could have had. But with you…" I trailed off and felt his stare drill into the side of my head. "Part of me can't let you go."

"It's okay, Bella," he breathed. "I'm right here. You don't have to force yourself to decide how you feel about me this second." Next to me, Edward's knees turned toward me. I assumed the rest of his body followed, because when he continued, he felt closer. "I know I've pushed you, but I've said my peace…for now."

"Good...because I don't have any answers for you, Edward. It still…hurts. Everything's different now; I'm not that strong anymore."

"Don't say that," he snapped. "Don't let him take that away from you."

I reached my arms around my knees, damning my protesting back, curling into myself. "He didn't; Jake just kicked me when I was already down. My strength was used up long before, on someone else." My throat tightened, causing me to sound strangled as I continued, "The last time I felt truly strong, brave even, was when I told you how I felt about you. For the first time in my life I reached out and took a chance on something I wanted."

Not seeing his face kept me going. "I told myself for months that you couldn't feel the same, that I was imagining that we had a future together. I stayed with Jake because I wanted to be responsible. It's who I've always been; I took care of my mom, of Charlie, of Jake even. I never did anything selfish or rash. I used to think I was selfless, but that was so narcissistic of me. What I was—I was a _coward_, Edward." The moonlight returned suddenly, and I felt naked in its luminous pallor. "You made me feel strong; you made me want to fight for you. Because I wanted you. I wanted you so badly I couldn't see reason or reality. All I saw was you. I just took a leap of faith that you could somehow love me, too."

My fingers gripped at my knees, anchoring me to the stoop. I didn't dare look at Edward out of the corner of my eye. I had to stay calm or else I'd start running away again. Pretending I wasn't shuddering, I continued, "When you said…what you said, I felt like a fool. Even though it didn't make sense for you to love me, I believed that you did. And then you stole that from me. You left me alone, and I couldn't handle it. Being alone was fine before I met you, but after I knew what it was like to have you—well, to borrow you, I guess, because you were never mine—I couldn't go back to what I'd known before."

I couldn't lie to Edward. Not back in the days when I'd so easily believed things between us could work out, and not now that uncertainty hung over us like the blade of a guillotine. It wasn't wise to bare my soul to him yet again, but the long-forgotten voodoo of his presence gave me no choice. "I want to say that I'm sorry for what happened on Friday. For the things I said. But I'm not. I'd like to take them back, but I can't. You cornered me and pushed and pushed until I felt smothered. Maybe I did the same to you when I told you how I felt about you, but you knew I couldn't handle it. But you did it anyway. So I still don't trust you. I don't know if I'll ever be strong again."

I shut my eyes and breathed. My chest ached from the cool air in my lungs, but it kept me tethered to reality. This—Edward, me, the stoop—was real_. _Not one of my nightmares nor one of my dreams. I wasn't flying off the handle, he wasn't running away or pushing too hard. Under the starless sky, atop brown grass and cold cement, we just were.

He let the silence breathe.

And then he covered my hand with his.

My breath hitched. I squeezed my eyelids tighter shut.

Not once had we ever held hands like this. We'd brushed skin accidentally on purpose for mere seconds at a time, he used his hands earlier today to cool my scalded ones, and the night of my near-death experience with my truck, he'd gripped my hand to keep me conscious, but our palms never linked the way they were right now. We were touching for the sake of touching. Without pretenses. Without excuses.

The second the inside of his hand swathed the back of mine, I was too aware of all I'd lost, of everything he'd denied me. And it _hurt_, the way temporary homecomings and looking through family albums hurt. I felt the past and exactly what my life was missing: him.

All I had to do was flip my hand over and weave my fingers with his. He'd let me. For the first time, I could touch him as I'd always wanted: voluntarily, hungrily, lovingly.

I'd never really given myself anything. I couldn't see my reflection and find beauty. I'd never laughed at my own jokes. I'd tortured myself because I couldn't fit in with anyone in my life. I wasn't strong enough to cope with the petty contents of a poorly written letter. But tonight, I gave myself this.

My wrist turned. His fingers wound with mine, his thumb brushing slowly over the skin covering my knuckles.

My neck remained stiff, and my stare straightforward, allowing me a necessary blind spot exactly where Edward sat. I kept my eyes closed because I didn't want sight, only touch.

When he breathed, I discovered he'd moved closer. Bittersweet air nipped at my ear when he spoke. "I can wait. If there's even a small chance that you might allow me back into your life, I'll wait for you. I'll do anything, Bella. Anything to earn back your trust."

"Edward, I don't know if I can—"

"I lied to you three times. Everything else I've told you was true."

I let memories of the night of my confession in the forest replay in my head. My eyes snapped open. "You lied. You also left."

"I want to tell you that I don't deserve you, Bella. That would be the right thing to do. Leaving you was the most selfless thing I've ever done." He inched nearer, stopping at the edge of where distance died and contact began. Had the threads of our jeans stood on end, they would have touched. "It's just that…I'm connected to you. It's too late for me. I want to stay. I want you." His eyes brightened with hope, but his voice dropped low, heavy with fear.

"I don't know if I can do this, Edward. I don't know how to forgive you, let alone let you back into my life. I'm not that brave anymore. That girl…she's gone." Exhausted. Pitiful. Confused out of her mind. That's who the girl had become.

Edward took his hand back. Fortunately, my eyelids shut again, closing out the world; I couldn't watch another scene of him walking away.

As I stretched my legs to persuade myself to stand, the toes of my shoes hit something hard. My eyes fluttered open, knowing what I would find.

He had moved from a standing position several feet away to his knees directly in front of me, still taller than me even though I was huddled on the elevated stoop, a redux of the park. I stood up to avoid the parallel.

Edward followed suit and stepped up on the stoop beside me. "You're braver than you think, Bella."

"I'm not," I whispered. "I can't go through this again."

"You're braver than I am. This—you and I—is the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced."

I peeked at him from behind a curtain of hair the wind had whipped across my forehead. "You didn't seem very scared the other day when you were holding me hostage, demanding I hear you out."

"It was the only way you'd listen." The initial insistence in his tone dropped away. Desperation took its place. "I know I pushed you, but I needed you to understand that I've always wanted you. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting you go, and I needed you to believe me…but the truth is I'm terrified that I've lost you, that it's too late."

I suddenly felt his breath tickle the skin on my forehead, so I sat back down on the stoop with a resounding thud. "You're not sorry for the things you said to me. You said it yourself—you were justified, trying to protect me."

"I'm not exactly the safest option for you."

"That wasn't your choice to make."

In an instant, he was sitting beside me again, his eyes locked on his feet.

Our mutual frustration permeated the stillness. I couldn't take it anymore. "Do you think of what you did—the things you said—and see it as a sacrifice?"

"A sacrifice?" He scowled the way he usually did during his rare moments of confusion. "Bella, the hardest choice I've ever made was walking away from you."

"The bravest thing I ever did was tell you how I felt about you. I was scared to death, but I did it anyway. And you threw me away. Did you ever think about what about what _I_ wanted?"

"You didn't know the details. I did. I thought I was giving you the life you were meant to have. I couldn't interfere based on my own selfish wants." I opened my mouth, but he continued before I could say anything. "Besides, I never thought you could truly know me, everything about my kind and what I am, and love me."

"You thought you were brave, Edward. You made this…noble sacrifice and patted yourself on the back for being so selfless." Though it hadn't been my intention, I sounded as I felt: ruined.

His forehead creased in aggravation, hands tightening around the sides of his thighs. "I'm not good enough for you. Why can't you see that?"

I couldn't tell if he was convincing me or himself.

"So you're here, for now, to protect me against Jake and then what? I go away to school and you run for the hills?"

When he didn't respond, I thought I had my answer. "You think you're so brave, for running away." The word "brave" sounded wrong filtering through my vulnerable voice. "The thing is, I was braver than you." The realization hit; I felt winded. "I told you the truth, even though there was a chance you'd reject me. But you couldn't even do that. You hid from me. This wasn't about protecting me, it was about you hating yourself so much that you couldn't possibly believe anyone could ever love you."

I'd promised myself no more crying in his presence, and I fought hard to keep that vow. The shaking, though, I couldn't control. "You still think that, don't you? That's why you're not sorry for what you said. You speak as if you're so strong and forceful, but all you have is words, Edward. Maybe you love me, but since you aren't sorry for what you did, for hating yourself more than you loved me I know you'll just end up running away. Again."

When he stood, my shaking worsened. I'd expected him to go eventually, just not now, not so soon after he'd told me he couldn't stay away from me.

It was easier to even my voice with his back to me. "Brave people fight for what they want."

As soon as I'd said it, I wanted to take it back. Jake was fighting tooth and nail for what he wanted…but I'd call him selfish, not brave. With Edward and me, both then and now, I didn't know what constituted rectitude and bravery and what was merely selfish and wrong. I still warred with myself as to whether I wanted him to fight for me. The still-bitter side told me that once the battle was won, he'd vanish in a haze of self-righteousness. The other told me that maybe _I _should fight for him all over again.

I stood up, fully prepared to walk back into the house in a few minutes when he disappeared back into the forest.

I waited for the inevitable departure. But Edward didn't take a step. Instead, he stood ramrod straight six feet in front of me. His not leaving didn't give me hope, though, as his back was still turned.

But then he said, "Ask me what the other two lies were."

"What?"

"You know one, but you haven't inquired about the other two."

"I…"

"The second lie." He paused. "I told you I couldn't remember my parents, that I'd forget you as I did them. I never forgot them. I remember pieces of them, pieces I fight to keep from fading with the rest of my human memories. My mother's eyes were green, the color of moss. My father smelled like tobacco and Altoids. I didn't forget them, and I'll never forget you. But it's irrelevant—forgetting—because I can't lose you, not unless you truly want me out of your life."

If there was a question in his final sentence, I didn't know its answer.

"The last of the lies…" Through the thin cotton of his shirt, I saw the muscles of his back tense. "I told you I'd never even kissed a woman before."

I swallowed. "This isn't any of my business."

He turned around. His eyes were on fire. "Oh, I think it is." His lip twitched then, as if to smile despite the graveness of his tone. "Technically, I've been kissed once."

He took a step, his head cocked slightly to the side.

"You see, there was this girl, she had this knack for…trouble. I pulled her out from under this collapsed monstrosity of a vehicle and carried her back to my car, to take her to the hospital. But as I walked with her in my arms, she kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I thought she'd finally passed out for good after a few moments…but then she grabbed my neck and lifted herself up with strength someone in her condition should never have."

_Oh God_.

"She opened her mouth and kissed me. Right here." He stroked his index finger once against the curve of his jaw. His face was wistful for the briefest of moments before it slipped into sadness. "And then here." His fingertip traced the fullness of his bottom lip. "She doesn't even remember. But I can't ever forget."

I had patches of memory loss from that night, from the moment my truck descended down upon me in a slow-motion avalanche of rusted metal up until the drive with Edward to the hospital. Never before had I wanted to shed light on that darkness. Now, I wanted it now so badly that I squeezed my eyes shut as if to forcibly milk the invisible memories to the forefront of my mind. My efforts met with nothingness.

When my eyes fluttered open, I started chewing on my own lips, self-conscious because he was staring right at them.

"That's not even the entire lie, Bella." His eyes were wide, now taking in my entire face. "It was then that I knew that I could kiss you. I hadn't ever hoped for…that before. I thought it would be impossible, that my blood lust for you would overpower me, but your lips on my skin…as soon as it happened, I realized I no longer lusted primarily after your blood."

I started coughing. My face grew hotter and presumably redder. This…couldn't be happening. I wanted a distraction, my misery craved company. But I never asked for this.

Now standing directly in front of me, he held out his hand.

I should have run. I should have told him for the hundredth time that I couldn't trust him. I should have done pretty much anything but what I actually did.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, I placed my hand in his.

He pulled me to him gently and leaned in over me. "You're right. When you told me you loved me, it was incredibly brave."

"It doesn't matter. It was also selfish. I felt like a fool."

We were both whispering absently, too obsessed with memorizing the moment of each other's lips through heavy eyelids to give gravity and inflection to our words. His hand lifted to cup around my shoulder before he moved it closer to my face, his fingers twisting in the web of knotted hairs at the base of my neck.

"I pushed you away and told myself it was the right thing to do." He closed his eyes and shook his head. If I lifted my chin, his nose would have brushed against my forehead. Before I could entertain the idea, he continued, "I thought I was brave." He wound his finger around a wisp of my hair. "But perhaps there are times when selfish acts are the truest marks of bravery."

"That's not…that's not what I meant."

"When you told me you loved me, you may have thought you were acting in your own interests, but Bella, you changed me. Forever. You made me believe that I could be something better. You believed in me, even after you knew what I was. You _were_ brave, whether you can see that or not." Boiling with determination, he leaned in. "The question is how brave are you now?"

Suddenly, I could only feel the nerve endings in my lips. "I…"

Eyes hooded, he whispered, "I could hurt you."

"But you won't." Because in this one respect—my physical safety—I trusted him completely.

"But I won't," he echoed.

His questions answered, his warnings disclaimed, permission was now no longer in his vocabulary. Not that it mattered; in the confines of that moment, if he asked, I wouldn't have said no. Since he didn't, my unspoken answer was yes.

I needed to feel whole, if only for a few seconds. I needed to feel him.

His head tilted.

I rose up on my toes.

We were close…

This was a mistake.

Closer…

But I didn't care.

Here.

Then Eden. Ecstasy. Everything.

His lips and mine molded around each other, fire and ice converging and bathing us both in a hypothermic fever. As he tentatively moved his mouth against mine, we became heaven as we became hell. We were love, we were sin. We were Edward and Bella, doomed and destined, all in a single kiss.


	35. Kissed

**Chapter Thirty-Five Notes: **A huge thanks to Booksgalore for her unparalleled beta skills, GinnyW for sharing some much-needed expertise on stitches, and you for still reading this thing despite my craptastic updating schedule.

The comment I made in a previous A/N about this story not being completely consistent w/ certain parts of canon still applies. This is, after all, an AU and the characters aren't always carbon copies of who they were in SM's work.

Previously in IVO-land: Bella got attacked by Jake the Werewolf. Edward stopped giving her the cold shoulder and admitted he lied to her when he told her he didn't have feelings for her. Bella rebuffed him and refused to deal with all the drama in her life, ranging from her feelings for Edward and the massive Jake-induced scar on her back. She has nightmares of the attack, which were only complicated by Jake's repeated attempts to contact her. Feeling trapped in a corner, she finally realized that though she doesn't know where she and Edward stand anymore, he understands her and she feels safe with him. Late at night on her stoop, they talk. Edward tells her she'd kissed him once before, when she was nearly unconscious after the accident with her truck almost falling on her. And then finally kissed for real, taking us to…

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: Kissed**

His kiss ruined me for all others.

Before our lips met, kissing was nice. Pleasant. Better than breathing, on an even keel with top-shelf ice cream and a good book. But in a separate stratosphere than Christmas morning or hearing a favorite song for the first time. When the space between us dissolved…there were no words. No comparison. Nothing would ever be as perfect as Edward's face converging with mine. Predatory instincts and common sense be damned. We were meant for this.

At first, our mouths puckered and brushed but never quite intermingled. Edward took his sweet time. The slope of his nose nestled around the contours of my cheekbone, his eyelashes dusting the skin at my temple. He spent endless moments running his fingers up and down my neck before moving them back up into my hair. Then, we stood motionless, lips locked but bodies too cautious to inhale the other.

_He's waiting for me_, I realized. Edward had initiated contact, but now he wanted me to lead.

"Keep going," I breathed into his unparting lips.

His hand slowly unwound itself from my hair and cupped the base of my neck. It wasn't

enough. I needed more …and his mouth and hands were the vessels in which he could provide that validation.

_Stop hesitating_, my fingers begged him as they traced the cords of his neck. Eventually, the tips lost themselves in his hair, diving through soft strands and then stilling in anticipation. It was Edward's turn.

He sucked in a measured breath through his nose before leaning in further, increasing the pressure where our lips joined. For one brief moment, we froze again until finally his body answered my silent plea, _I will if you will. _

Edward's hand left my neck and traced its way down my side, slowing at the curve of my waist and tracing a sensual path until it found my hip. A second later, his other hand lifted to my shoulder and then mirrored the actions of the first, on the opposite side. His movements weren't sorry or shy. Edward was no longer retreating, nor was he chasing. No—he was claiming me. I allowed him to place his stake, as I was doing the same.

A finger on each of his hands coiled around the belt loops on the sides of my waist, just above my hip bones. When he pulled—gently yet determined—my pelvis arched toward him, my chest following until it became flush with his. Our mouths were in full motion now. His lips were hard in theory but malleable in practice; they gave and took in perfect rhythm with my own. Caution disappeared on my end—I darted out my tongue to taste him, to possess him as he possessed me. I was met with sweet rather than salt, smooth rather than chapped, more myth than man. He exhaled through a narrow slit in his otherwise pursed lips. A warning. His breath seeped into my open mouth, a paradox of cool and steam wafting to the back of my throat.

Edward's shoulder stiffened, and I withdrew my tongue, fighting against the irrational feeling of rejection in the pit of my stomach. Except for our lips touching, we'd been in this exact place before. That night in the forest, my chin had been lifted then as it was now and my body had reached for him, begging for contact only to be turned away.

"Venom," he murmured, separating our mouths but uniting our foreheads and pressing the tips of our noses together. "Sharp teeth…we can't…"

"Sorry." We said it at the same time. From me, it came out worried, in a fragmented gasp. From him, it was low and heartfelt.

From my voice and the panic likely scribbled all over my face, Edward knew I was slipping away from him, from this new, possibly temporary us. He stared into me, reached forth, and reeled me back in, his twisting fingers leaving the waistband of my jeans and easing up under the bottom of my sweatshirt. His hands ghosted the bare skin under my ribs as he lowered his face back to mine. More than willing to prolong whatever this was, I raised my chin and met him halfway. The pads of his fingers pressed lightly into my sides, tracing hypnotic circles on my flesh but showing no intention of travelling higher. It was innocent, PG-13 at best, yet hands down the most sensual moment of my life.

Our second kiss of the night held for what could have been minutes or hours. For awhile, Edward didn't take a single breath, but I was sucking in and then panting out enough air for two. When he eventually relaxed into me, there was no hint of one-sided lust—no overeager tongue, no excess of saliva. No trace of the only other first kiss I'd ever known. Just the soft and hard of our lips memorizing curves and corners, textures and temperatures. Occasionally, he'd brave taking my lower lip into the dip where his lips almost-but-not-quite parted, sucking just barely until I hummed a broken, pathetic melody into him. Humiliating…had I cared.

We kissed for the longest time, during most of which rational thought was a joke. The feeling of his hands on my skin drove me blissfully insane but ultimately spawned the first signs of coherency. I couldn't help but think that this was so unlike him to reach out and take what he wanted like this, to obliterate barriers he'd once refused to cross. The memory of the night he left me waiting for his mouth, sure that he'd wanted to kiss me as I wanted to kiss him, resurfaced.

And that's when I knew: At some point, we had to stop. Real life would steal us back from each other. I'd remember that Edward might leave again, that I was freshly scarred and vulnerable, that the odds were stacked against us.

Still…

Damn tomorrow. To hell with yesterday. I wanted to keep him.

If only life ceased outside the here and now, I could.

Suddenly, he broke our kiss. Only then did I realize my upper body was quaking against him.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his torso, clutching him, clinging to this moment for as long as possible. He removed his hands from my sides and used them to reach between us and capture my face. I wove my fingers in the fabric of his shirt and glanced up at him, terrified but beyond curious to gauge his expression.

I expected to see his trademark tortured remorse or at least some semblance of caution flickering on his face.

What I saw was unprecedented.

Eyes dancing, mouth curved into a wild grin, Edward Cullen was jubilant.

For him, it was his first real kiss. For me, it was the only kiss that had ever mattered.

I couldn't help it. Reason and worry had no place in this moment. My lips twisted, and I beamed back up at him like the lovechild of the Joker and the Cheshire Cat. We stood close, touching each other in small brushes and occasional grabs of the other's clothes, grinning like two idiots.

It was an out-of-body experience. I felt…at peace. At peace with the simple happiness of someone who hadn't lived my life for the past four months. The pure joy flashing on Edward's face gave me temporary memory loss. I wished it would last forever.

But it wouldn't. Reality waited. We had a conflicted past behind us, an uncertain future looming ahead. My smile faltered. Edward's followed suit, dulling a good portion of the euphoric electricity humming between us.

"I…I don't know what this means," I sputtered, hating myself for sounding so lost.

When he finally responded, Edward's voice resonated gravelly. "I'm not expecting definitions right now, Bella. I just…" He set his jaw and intensified his gaze. "Stop hiding. From me—" he tangled his fingers in the loose hair falling down my back— "And from this." His hands dropped and brushed over the heavy cotton fabric covering my lower back, light enough that I felt no physical pain.

"And if I can't?" A human wouldn't have been able to hear my question. Thankfully, Edward was a step up, evolution-wise.

I let go of his shirt. Before my hands could fall to my thighs, he caught them in his. "You can."

"Yeah, sure."

His eyes narrowed. "Want it, Bella. You're a fighter. You can get past this."

_This. _He was talking about Jacob, of course, about my back and my cyclical psychotic breakdowns. My mouth flew open, preparing to parrot some weak, empty retort, but his lips swooped in and lulled us into silence. They were gone in an instant, my eyes fluttering open as he vowed, "You're going to be just fine. But you have to be the one to make that choice. You have to fight back."

He kissed me once more. Soft. Gentle. Magic.

As we stood in silence, I gripped his fingers. I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. My struggle to survive one day without a nightmare or near-panic attack didn't belong here, between Edward and me. While I desperately wanted to move beyond the shredded letter on my bedroom floor or the tapestry of stitches woven into my skin, right now that wasn't the big question. "What's going to happen to us, Edward?"

He diverted his eyes from mine but only for a second. Before I could miss his stare, it was back with newfound ferocity. "This is about you—you alone decide your fate. And right now, you don't have to make that decision."

"I'm not the only one in this equation," I corrected, not quite looking him in the eye. "The thing is, Edward, I…miss you. I wish we could go back to being just you and me, to talking without kid gloves and tension. And I wish I could believe this thing between us is inevitable, that it won't slip away and leave me even more broken than before, that you'll stay and we'll turn into…something. But—Jesus, Edward, I'm scared to death. My life is a disaster right now. You and me—we're not together and I'm in no place to be anything to you." I sighed and braved eye contact. "Yet I can't let you go. Not again."

Negating my words, I gave Edward's fingers one last squeeze and pulled my hands away. I shoved them into my pockets to avoid the temptation of grabbing at him again. He dipped his head down low, so that our eyes were level. "Then don't."

Don't. So simple. So impossible.

Straightening out, Edward's eyes left mine, and he backed up a step. His tone lightened as he changed the subject and yanked us out of our emotional black hole. "So tomorrow…no more detentions."

"Yeah."

"I want to see you."

I flushed and babbled, "There's an English test tomorrow. I'll be the girl with the scowl and the blue Bic four rows in front of you."

Hesitantly, Edward smiled. "I meant that I want to spend time with you in a setting that doesn't involve dirty dishes or a soundtrack featuring Mr. Berty's lisp."

"Oh."

"Lunch, perhaps?" He was nervous. I loved that I wasn't the only one.

"My stitches," I blurted. "Um, I mean I have a doctor's appointment at ten. What's left of them are coming out tomorrow. I won't be back for lunch, probably."

"But you'll be in English?"

"God willing." .

"May I offer you a ride home? After school?" When I didn't answer, he backtracked, "Or, you know, Alice could take the Jeep and give you one, if you don't want—"

"'Kay." I nodded as I spoke over his words, my mouth curving into the most awkward of half-smiles. "I'll go…with you."

He smiled back, but he wasn't fooling me; Edward was as clueless as I was about what we were diving into.

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

A nagging voice in the back of my head told me to nip disaster in the bud, but I ignored it. Like a recovering addict, I planned on taking this one day at a time, except instead of weaning myself off my old addiction, I was slowly allowing it to creep back into my life. This apologetic, devoted Edward before me was a much-needed hit, a distraction from peripheral evils. His tantalizing lips drew me in; now that I knew the power of his mouth, it was impossible to walk away. He was my drug, my downfall, my savior.

He walked backward down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, his mouth sporting a trace of a grin.

I raised my hand in an awkward wave, backing up closer to the door. My free hand fumbled for the knob behind me because my eyes refused to leave his face.

Edward cleared his throat before he disappeared from sight. His thumb massaged his lower lip. He looked beyond me, his eyes glazing over. "Bella, for the record, that was…"

My tongue swept over my mouth, trying to taste the memory. Dazed and breathless, I responded, "I know."

I waited until the darkness swallowed him before stumbling back inside. Upstairs, I stepped blindly through scattered shreds of paper, tossing a near-invisible photograph from my bed to the floor. Regardless of what damage the day had done and what tomorrow brought, tonight belonged to Edward and the heroin that was his kiss.

X X X

Charlie hauled me to school the next morning; there was no need for Alice since my current set of bandages and remaining stitches would be gone in a matter of hours. Besides, overhead, the sun was shining, and apparently at least one vampiric myth was true.

"Cloud cover won't move in until around lunchtime, so we have to lay low in the AM. I'll see you after school," Alice had promised that morning on the phone.

"Oh. Okay." Somehow, I'd thought it would just be Edward and me. I should've known better—Alice usually accompanied Edward to school in his Volvo, so obviously she would ride with us. I was pretty sure I was relieved…but not positive.

When Charlie dropped me off at school, I searched in vain for Edward. He wasn't there, of course; the sunshine I'd once cherished became my enemy, cheating me out of both his company and the ability to test the waters regarding last night's cataclysmic shift.

Until I passed out on my bed the night before, I'd tried to define what we were or what I wanted us to be. The only answer I came up with was I had absolutely no idea. Labels scared the hell out of me, but so did the possibility of not having Edward in my life. I tentatively resolved to let the chips fall where they may. I'd clean up the mess later.

When the cruiser returned at a quarter to ten, I was still anxious. For the next half hour, Charlie and I drove to the hospital and then bided our time in the waiting room. I glossed over my English notes, prepping for Berty's essay exam while Charlie stared off into space. When a nurse called my name, I almost looked forward to what was coming. Almost.

Dr. Cullen was nowhere in sight, the sunlight apparently worth a "sick day" and a bitter aside from Dr. Gerandy. "I like to fish, you know," he grumbled as he appraised by back. "I could be out on the Sol Duc right now angling salmon…but unlike some people, I take my sick leave quite seriously."

Dr. Gerandy's nurse swabbed my back with antiseptic, not nearly as gentle as Alice had been. The cool liquid on my skin made me shiver, though not as much as when he murmured, "Not a lot of crusted blood, but the scar tissue is already fairly substantial."

Dr. Gerandy scribbled away on my chart. I felt like a variable in an eighth-grade science project rather than a patient as he barked out orders. The nurse used forceps to snip and grab at the stitches on my back. For nearly two hours, slight tugs pulled at my skin, some causing me to yelp in pain, but overall the entire process wasn't as bad as when the nurse leaned over my shoulder and asked me if I wanted to "see."

She nodded toward the bathroom and thrust a mirror into my hand. I thrust it right back.

"No thanks. I have to get back to school." Pulling down my shirt, I rose up from my stomach to a sitting position, asking with icy indignation, "Am I good to go?"

She frowned, as if I was warped for not wanting to examine my patchwork of marred flesh. "I need to put some adhesives on. Lie back down."

I complied. Minutes later, she dismissed me after a spiel about keeping the bandages on for several days followed by excessive Vitamin E treatments and massaging of the scar tissue.

Within a half hour, the sun buried itself behind dark clouds and I was ten minutes early for English. Alone in the dim classroom, I spread my class notes out before me but trained my eyes on the door. When it swung open, I bordered on cardiac arrest until I saw Mike's beaming face.

One look at my expression had him asking, "What's wrong with you?"

I sighed. "Nothing."

"Ready for this thing?" Mike asked, as if one test at the end of our senior year would make or break our entire future.

"Not really," I lied, returning to feigned examination of my notes.

A minute later, the door reopened.

This time, it was him.

Our eyes met, two deer in headlights far too stupid to run from what was about to destroy us.

"Hi," Edward said, his voice too loud for the small, near-empty space.

"Uh, hey," I mumbled to the desk.

Mike's head darted back and forth between us as if watching a tennis match. After a bit, he settled on Edward as his target of choice. "Cullen," he sneered by a way of a greeting Edward obviously never asked for.

Ignoring Mike completely, Edward kept his face controlled and nodded at me before taking his seat. I twisted in my chair to avoid losing eye contact, my latest set of bandages wrinkling slightly with the strain.

Edward smiled but just barely, nothing like the blinding grin he'd unleashed on me the night before. It took a beat, but soon I understood why. His restrained expression was a test to determine whether the hours separating us from the night before reinstated me as president of the I Detest Edward Cullen Club. Nervously, I smiled back to let him know I'd resigned and very much wanted that ride home he'd offered. I knew nothing about what we were doing—except that I wanted to be wherever he was.

My gaze drifted to his mouth, and suddenly it hit me all over again that we'd _kissed _last night. His mouth. My lips. Touching. Whatever it meant was still unforeseen, but Holy Jesus, it had felt like electrocution, hypnosis, and sugar shock all at once. Blushing like a moron, I snapped my attention back to my notebook until class started.

I think there might have been a test. I know that at one point, I dropped my pen onto the floor and it rolled back several rows, only to be kicked forward into my fumbling fingers by the subject occupying my thoughts. The rest was a blur. The bell eventually dinged, after which I spent the next minutes scribbling mindless ramblings about Steinbeck even though the test may have covered Hemingway instead. When my lame attempt to save my A in English ended, Edward and everyone else had vanished and I had ten seconds to book it to History.

At three, I stumbled to my locker. No Edward. I grabbed my bag and jacket. No Edward. Walked out to the parking lot. The Volvo sat in the far corner but, again, no Edward.

"Photographic memory, my ass," I grumbled, surprised at how angry I was to miss out on a short car ride that I'd semi-dreaded earlier.

"Oh ye of little faith. As if I could forget you."

"Gah!" I spun to find him hovering over me. My bag dropped, its contents scattering on the sidewalk.

Edward and I crouched at the same time to retrieve them. My pulse boomed in my ears. "It's not polite to sneak up on people, you know."

An expression I hadn't seen in months crossed his face—he freaking _smirked _at me. "True, but it is rather amusing."

We both rose to our feet. "Says you," I scoffed.

The moment passed. We weren't the flirting, light-hearted us of four months ago, and it hit us both at the same time. My eyes began worshipping the giant sycamore near the corner of the parking lot, and Edward's neck was twisted away from me as if someone behind him had called his name, his left hand awkwardly massaging his neck. _Grow up_, I chastised myself. _Stop pretending you don't want him around. Stop hiding like a freaking child. _I rolled my eyes at myself, gathered my wits, and looked back up at him. His eyes found me, too, tension further engulfing us as we stared at each other's mouths, both trying not to focus on the fact that I'd licked his and he'd sucked on mine less than twenty-four hours earlier.

Edward held out my recovered textbooks. Beneath his elbows, his arms were bare. _Good God. _I scowled, wishing he'd have the decency to unroll his sleeves and cover himself in public. I barely heard him when he asked, "Ready?"

No. "Yeah."

I grabbed the books and scanned the area for Alice. Dear, sweet, distracting Alice--there she was, materializing out of nowhere to lean against the hood of the car. "Hey, Bella."

Something inside me snapped; I rushed past Edward and hugged her. She was the first person I'd seen all day that didn't put me on pins and needles. No longer was I disappointed she'd be riding with us; Alice was a much-welcome, spritely shield to what would otherwise be the most awkward car ride since Renee clued me into the secrets of my "changing body" on a road trip to Albuquerque when I was nine.

"Good to see you, too, Bella," she laughed into my shoulder. "Rough day?"

I scurried over to the back door of the Volvo, muttering, "Something like that."

Alice pushed me aside. "My legs are shorter; you should ride in the front."

"No, really, it's—"

I stopped short when Edward moved next to me, grasping at the handle then holding the door open for me. His forehead scrunched up with worry. As I squeezed past him to settle into the front passenger seat, I couldn't help but feel like we were on an incredibly painful first date. I swallowed, plastered a fake, enthusiastic smile on my face, and grasped for diversion. "So, did I miss anything in Spanish, Alice?"

She giggled. "You tell me, Bella. You were there; I wasn't."

Oh. Alice had still been dodging sunlight, and I'd gone to my first two classes of the day before heading off to the doctor's office. "Right. Of course." I covered the left side of my face with my hand, and like the brainless, nervous Energizer Bunny I was, I kept on going. And going. "I forgot that you were in your coffin. Or dungeon. Or wherever you go to hide from the sun." _Jesus, Bella, shut up._ "I mean, I forgot that you weren't there. Sorry…just…sorry."

"Coffins? Seriously?" Alice's voice trilled with amusement. "Do I look someone who spends her time in coffins? Or dungeons? Oh, Bella. You need a crash course in Vampire STAT."

"Sorry," I grumbled into the collar of my jacket.

"Don't be." It was the answer I expected, though it came from a different source. Edward smiled at me, overly cautious as if a twist of his lips could break me in half. He continued, focused on the quickly disappearing pavement beyond the windshield, "The sun can't hurt us. But it does betray what we are."

"Yeah?" I asked as if I already understood exactly what he was saying. I wanted to make him feel comfortable. Then maybe he could return the favor.

"We sparkle in the sunlight."

Maybe it was the kissing. Maybe it was my inability to respond like a normal person to any uncomfortable situation. Or maybe the entire thing was just insane. Regardless, I spat out a laugh, and once it was out there, I couldn't take it back. "You…_sparkle_?"

Sheepishly, Edward responded, "Our skin reflects the sun, much like prisms."

"Or diamonds," Alice piped up.

I swallowed my irrational, hysterical smile and stared out the window. "So, you're, like, bedazzled?" I imagined the hideous denim jacket Renee bought at a craft mall a few years back, with its blue sequins and fabric paint creating a monstrosity of a shimmering dolphin across its back. Something that unnatural and gaudy did not fit along with the images I had of Edward's hauntingly beautiful alabaster skin.

Alice snorted. "No, it's way cooler than that. Edward can show you sometime."

My shoulders stiffened at the suggestion Edward show me anything. Immediately, I imagined the last thing that happened when we were alone, and without looking over, I knew his body was a rigid as mine. My eyes were in my lap, but I noticed the Volvo had come to a stop. I was home.

My fingers grabbed for the door handle, only to find nothing but a slight breeze. The car door was already open. Edward stood to the side, waiting for my exit.

I climbed out, nodding once. "Thanks for the ride."

He was close but not invasive and so very…tall. I couldn't reach him on my own; if I ever hoped to kiss him again, he'd have to help me out. My cheeks caught on fire at the thought, and I almost missed him whisper, "No problem."

I fumbled a wave behind my back for Alice's benefit and stalked off toward the house. Even before I opened the front door, I regretted my lackluster goodbyes.

X X X

I fed Charlie copious amounts of turkey for dinner. Tryptophan was a gift from the Gods. He crashed before ten.

I lied on my bed for twenty minutes before I gave up pretending sleep was possible. As I kicked shredded scraps of paper on my floor under my bed, I knew all too well that werewolves and vampires would plague my unconscious thoughts, albeit for very different reasons. I paced for another five, and then decided to stop delaying the inevitable.

After yanking on a sweatshirt, my feet found their way downstairs and out the door to the stoop—our stoop. Before my eyes adjusted to the dark, I spoke into the night. "Hey?"

Edward didn't bother with human speed. In a flash, he was here. "Hi."

I played with the drawstring on my hoodie and tried to control my face so that I didn't come across as a fawning cheerleader welcoming the game-winning quarterback off the field. As casually as I could manage, I explained, "I can't sleep."

A smile in his voice, he answered, "It's only 9:45."

"I already know I won't be able to. I'm quite Alice-y when it comes to predicting my sleeping habits."

I cowered on the porch, Edward a couple steps away on the footpath. I could see him now. Every time we separated, I convinced myself I'd exaggerated his physical beauty. Then, when he'd reappear, I'd realize I'd underplayed it in my mind--he was beyond pretty, light years past stunning. Webster's had no word for him, really. If I looked him in the eye, the attraction I felt for him rendered me incoherent and made me feel ugly inside and out. Granted, Edward was arrogant and stubborn as hell. But so much more defined him and placed him out of my league--he was beautiful, gloriously intelligent, and, if I was being totally honest, selfless to a fault.

And I was not.

Yet, despite my usual feelings of inadequacy, I didn't feel like hiding from him. I, after all, was the selfish one. I looked away so that I'd have the nerve to ask him to stay. "Sit with me?"

Edward settled into one corner of the porch swing, I the other. A canyon of unspoken truths lay between us. I sat Indian-style on my legs, leaving it to Edward to gently sway us back and forth.

"Why can't you sleep?" he asked, watching his own knees as they jutted out with each push of the swing.

"Just can't." He knew why. And he knew I did not want to have this conversation. I picked another at random, to keep him here with me and to stop myself from letting my inner coward take over and drag me back to my bedroom. "Renee bought Charlie this swing two weeks before she left him."

Edward twisted his head so his eyes bored into me. He didn't say a word, though I wished he would. I needed him to ask for the reason, to have a meaningless conversation with me so I could hear his voice and feel safe. The minutes passed, and I withdrew my legs from under my body, giving up, preparing to stand and spend a sleepless night staring at my ceiling.

My feet hit the floor, but before I could stand, one word rescued us. "Why?"

Edward didn't glance over when he asked, as he had with his last question. It was probably best that way; when I looked into his eyes, I yearned for physical contact and ended up hating him for siphoning off my strength and myself for being a spineless cliché.

I smiled wistfully and traced the chain suspending my side of the swing with my fingertips. Flakes of rust dusted off onto my sleeve. "She said her grandparents used to have one that they used to sit together in it every night at sunset. They were married for sixty-one years and died within weeks of each other. When Renee was a kid, she thought the porch swing was their secret, that they wouldn't have lasted if they didn't sit on that thing every day." I laughed nervously, trying to pretend Renee was beyond silly, even though I'd believed that swing held some mystical power until I was thirteen. "When I was about nine or ten, she told me that story and said she saw a porch swing at an estate sale and wanted to leave Charlie with something nice. Then, when I got older, she revealed the real story: she bought it as a last resort. If he swung on it with her—just once—she said she would have stayed."

Edward watched me for a very long time before he answered the unasked question, "But he didn't."

"Charlie worked long hours. He was new on the force and had to prove himself."

"It wasn't his fault."

"It wasn't entirely hers either. They didn't belong together." My breathing changed its rhythm as I realized this topic of conversation wasn't as safe as I'd hoped.

"Sure they did. At least for a little while." The half of Edward's face I could see smiled, and I hated my heart for speeding up without permission. "They needed to have you."

"You sound like Renee. She always tells me that." Blood ignited under my skin, shading it a hybrid of radish and grape.

"She's right."

I meant to give him an eye roll, but an involuntary smile crept to my lips and sold me out. Looking away, I asked, "What were your parents like? I mean, from what you can remember of them."

Edward relaxed into the swing, his upper arms propping on the top of the seatback. "My father was an attorney. He worked most of the time and expected me to grow up and be exactly like him. Whenever he was home, he smoked cigars and taught me how to shoot pool."

"Were you and he close?"

Edward shrugged. "Not especially. I spent more time with my mother."

I smiled. We had that in common. "Did she look like you?"

"I can't remember." Looking down to his lap, Edward shook his head. "I don't have any photographs of my parents. Their faces are fuzzy at best. Though Carlisle tells me her eyes were green. Like mine used to be, before…"

"How did he know?"

"He treated my parents and me in the hospital. After they died, he changed me." Edward still wasn't looking at me, though his voice no longer sounded soft and reflective. His profile revealed his expression was hard. It was almost as if he was purposefully avoiding my face. Probably because he knew what my next question would be.

"And how does that work? How does one change—"

He cut me off, avoiding my questions. "I do remember my mother liked to bake rhubarb pie, and even though I hated the taste, I'd sit in the kitchen with her while she cooked because the smell was intoxicating." He paused, and eventually a wistful smile thawed his face. "To this day, it calls to me, though the taste of pie disgusts me more now than it ever did then."

"Do you miss them?" Somewhere between billiards and rhubarb, I'd unknowingly turned my body toward him, my bent knees overlapping onto the cushion separating us.

"My human life was so long ago…I'm not really that person anymore." Edward's arms left the back of the seat and folded over his chest. "I know that I loved them, but the memory of them is faded, to the point where they seem almost fictional."

I watched the side of his face, surprising myself by wishing he'd look back at me rather than out into the yard. I tried not to think that he might be keeping watch; I wanted this to be a social call, not part of his role as my self-proclaimed protector. And "social" meant that I wanted to talk with him more, to know him—every version. Clearing my throat, I asked, "How are you different now? From then? Aside from the…obvious."

I expected Edward to say he'd used his immortality and sleepless nights to learn fifty different languages or how to perform a double bypass. Instead, he removed his arms from his chest, letting them drop to his thighs, and said, "I have different priorities." He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. "Notwithstanding my diet."

Edward shifted in his seat, bracing the swing with his legs. "When I was human, all I wanted was to fight in the Great War. My friends enlisted, but I wouldn't turn eighteen until June, so I had to wait. My mother was distraught, and my father told me it would unnecessarily delay the higher education he expected me to pursue. But I didn't care. I wanted excitement and the chance to test my bravery, to prove I was a man. I had no desire to get married or follow in my father's footsteps at Yale. If I lost my life somewhere in Europe, I figured it would be a noble death and that ultimately my parents would be proud."

Edward caught something in my expression and stopped. His head tilted, and his eyes flickered with curiosity. "You have something to say?"

I shook my head "no" but spoke up anyway. "I just…did you believe in the cause?"

He furrowed his brow. "Not exactly. I wanted to fight, and there was quite a bit of pressure to enlist and prove your manhood. War provided the chance to make a difference at a very young age."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before I blurted, "I don't get why you'd do that to your mother and father, or why you'd give up your entire future to feel brave for about thirty seconds before some enemy soldier shot your face off."

Edward said nothing. Tension prickled between us. I swallowed and opened my mouth to apologize for insulting him, but he beat me to the punch. "I had nothing to lose. My mother and father had each other. My friends were already serving in battle. I had no sweetheart waiting for me to put a ring on her finger."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and watched him, certain of the life a human Edward would have had. "You would have gotten married. Had a family. A career. I bet you would've been happy."

Edward's head still cocked, but now his eyebrows rose. "What makes you think that?"

I blinked more times than I could count before an answer came out of my mouth. "You seem to be so sure of yourself. You would have made the right choices. Had a great job, found the right girl." My throat closed up a bit; if I kept this up, I'd feel like I was swallowing a beach ball. "You don't seem like the type to settle."

He looked down and smirked, almost as if to himself. "I'm not."

"Me either." Our eyes met. Suddenly, I wanted him to see me as strong, brave. Maybe if he saw those things in me, I might believe that I could someday believe them, too. "I'm going to Dartmouth in the fall."

He grinned, uninhibited and wide. "I knew you'd go."

I arched an eyebrow and resisted the sudden, unfounded urge to playfully shove him in the chest. "You did not."

"I knew," he taunted, "and I didn't even need to ask Alice. You're not the type to give up, Bella."

His praise felt so _good. _We'd gone from sexual-tension hell to good-natured camaraderie in no time flat, and I welcomed the thaw with open arms. He caught the relief on my face, and his expression became deeper, his stare more intense. I glanced away and babbled, "I'm probably going to have to sell a kidney on eBay to afford the tuition, but I'm doing it." I found myself watching him again, this time unable to escape his eyes. "Anyway, I can't not go. I'll always look back and wonder how it would've changed my life."

He shifted in his seat again, moving closer but almost unperceptively so. "Certain opportunities aren't meant to be wasted," he agreed.

Edward read minds, but sometimes he gave me looks, like the deliberate one currently on his face, and I swore he was trying to get me to read his.

"Yeah," I muttered, fighting to stay clueless and keep our exchange light. "I guess."

Edward squinted at me and then dropped the Big Intense Look from his face. His focus shifted as he fingered a web above his corner of the swing. The spider inside scurried away from his hand, disappearing into the canopy. He chuckled. "I'm not popular with insects—or animals, for that matter."

"That's handy," I joked. "I absolutely hate spiders. And cats. Cats annoy the hell out of me."

Edward waved his hand, gesturing to himself. "Natural repellant."

"Cool."

Then, silence. Our light-hearted reprieve underwent sudden death. The quiet plaguing us was the nonreflective, painful kind where any word sounds like a good one, except the longer you wait, the stupider the next phrase out of your mouth will be. Case in point: "I should probably go to bed," I lied. It was the worst possible thing to say, as I neither wanted to leave him nor did I want to trek back up to my suffocating tomb of a bedroom.

"It is getting late. I apologize."

Caught in my silence-filling lie, I moved to get up, but my legs, still folded underneath me, had fallen asleep. My upper body lurched away from the swing, but my lower half stayed put. I looked like a worm struggling out of the muddy earth.

Edward watched me, biting his lip to contain his laughter. "Are you alright?"

I took my hand and lifted one of my calves onto the ground. It hit the porch with a thud. Still asleep, my ankle bent as my limp foot turned on its side. Then, the tingles started. Pins and needles stabbed at my nerves as my legs woke up. "Ow. Ow! OW!"

I grasped the swing's chain for support, thinking that if I stood, the blood would rush to my legs and the pain would end faster.

It didn't work.

I swayed and fell back onto the swing, propelling it back so that it nearly hit the siding of the house. My back hit the seat.

Edward's amusement vanished. "Do you need help?"

Fighting off a wince, I sighed. "No. My legs are asleep. Give me a second. I'll be fine."

He still looked worried. I shook my head at his expression. "You know, for someone who wanted to run off to war, you sure can't take watching pain very well." On Edward's face, his apprehension didn't falter. "For God sakes, Edward. It's not like I got shot."

"Excuse me for not wanting you to face plant on the porch." Edward flashed me the grimace of a five-year-old before he recovered and his faced turned haughty. "Regardless, I have no desire to go off to war. I told you; my priorities changed."

I leaned forward and rubbed my calves, my face growing serious as I followed him back to the topic we'd abandoned earlier. "How?"

"I grew up. I learned what having a family meant. I'd do anything for them."

The conviction in Edward's voice made me relax and flash him a small, pensive smile. "They're lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have them."

Silence again. I swung my legs under the seat. My legs were finally awake. "I should go to bed…" I spoke slowly, giving him the opportunity to spot my reluctance.

"Right," he nodded. Something in his face was…off.

"'Night," I whispered as I sluggishly walked past him toward the door.

"Good night, Bella." His expression was sad, though not the sort that would warrant pity. By simply looking at him, I knew some deep thought was transiting through that magnificently complicated brain of his.

I stopped. I hadn't wanted to leave in the first place, but now his face anchored me to the porch, giving me no choice. I hovered over where he sat on the swing, studying his face from a new angle. When he looked up at me, his eyes were amber and searching. I'd never noticed his eyelashes before; they were long so that they tangled a bit with their neighbors. Wide-eyed and lost for words, he'd never looked more human.

"What is it?" I relaxed my face, trying to get him to confess his secret to me.

"You should go to sleep; it's nothing."

"Liar." I squinted down at him in a vain attempt to intimidate. "Fess up."

Chin lifted, he narrowed his eyes at me. "There's more than just one elephant in the room, Bella. I think for now it should stay that way."

My lips pursed as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. I backed up a step and sat on the porch railing. I still sat up higher than Edward on the swing, but I felt far from superior.

No longer could I count the topics I was trying to avoid. And I hated it. The running, the weakness, the endless duck-and-cover routine. I shocked both when I looked Edward straight in the eye and said, "Tell me."

Edward reached out his hand to touch me, but I backed up further against the rail, not wanting to be placated. Folding my arms, I glared at him.

Behind his eyes, a challenge rose. "I was changed a century ago, and it's true my priorities shifted once I ceased being human. But while I love my family and would do anything for them, I was always separate from them in many ways. My first priority was myself." He ran a hand across his face, warring with himself as to whether he should continue. "Until I found you."

My jaw was open. That I knew. Otherwise, I felt nothing but his stare and a sudden shortness of breath.

Edward leaned forward on the swing, his elbow propped on his knees. "Vampires mate differently than humans, Bella. There are things you should know. About what's happened between you and me."

I nodded profusely, trying to up my tough façade, but I couldn't process his words. Rather, I focused only on the pounding of my pulse in my temples. I had no doubt my face looked like someone had a rifle aimed right between my eyes.

Edward's sincerity wafted, and he grew almost smug. "But you're not ready."

Damn him, he was right.

"I hate that I'm not," I mumbled. "Lately, my life's been too much…just too much. I can't, I want to push forward and stop freaking about everything, but I can't right now." I bit my lip, showing every bit of the cowardice I loathed.

"I know." The smugness was gone. Edward stared at our feet. "You're not wearing shoes," he said eventually. "You should get inside."

Wordlessly, I shuffled to the door. Deflated, I muttered, "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he echoed.

I couldn't look at him as I shut the door between us. Walking over to the staircase, I kicked the first step in frustration, stubbing my bare big toe. This was ridiculous. _I_ was ridiculous. He genuinely seemed to want me. And, while I couldn't handle saying it out loud in promises or undying declarations, I had no doubt that I wanted him, too. In what capacity, I had no idea. But we'd been apart long enough and I couldn't stop being with him. Even if I was scared or a psychotic wreck.

My fists balled. "Screw this," I whispered.

I flung open the door, planning on marching back to the swing, but Edward was standing right in front of the doorjamb. Waiting for me.

For what I did next, I could have blamed pain meds. Except I hadn't taken any. I could have said it was because I hadn't been sleeping well. But last night, for the first time in over a week, I'd slept like a baby. No, the truth was that Edward drove me crazy. In the best possible way.

Which explained why I launched myself at him, jerked on his neck, and practically climbed him like a tree. He stared down at me in shock, and I took full advantage. Instantly, my mouth was on his, my eyes closed, my hands in his hair. I kissed him to forget, to survive, to show him what I couldn't say in words or even think in my own head.

He did not kiss me back.

I let go and shoved away from him. My predictable traitor of a face turned some ghastly shade of red, and I began to stammer, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was think—"

Edward held up his hand. He took a deep breath, and then in a single step, one of his hands was on the back of my neck while the other lifted my chin. Without hesitation, he planted his lips back on mine. Where they belonged. His kiss was sweet but wanting. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and with extreme care, he did the same, miraculously keeping his touch weighted exactly where my body was free of gashes and slices.

When we stopped, we didn't so much break apart from each other as drift in unison. We ended up back at the swing, this time without a cushion between us.

Edward knew nothing he could say could heal me at this point. I had nothing to say to clarify what any of this meant. Instead, my feet twisted around his ankles, and we sat wound together like two shoelaces. After a few minutes, he pulled me closer to him, so that my head rested on his shoulder. I closed my eyes, stretched my arm across his chest, and pressed my cheek against forgiving cotton of his shirt. Time passed; I never knew how much.

He rocked us slowly. Occasionally, his lips would press against my head. They didn't kiss me; rather, they breathed me in, memorizing my scent and comforting me with the mere hint of their presence. At some point, Edward unsnaked his arm from my shoulders and used his fingers to brush the bare skin on the back of my neck. "It's a nice swing," he murmured.

I opened my eyes and raised my head so that could see past his chin and into his eyes. "I'm glad it's here."

In that moment, on a swing laden with unfulfilled promise, Edward was my here and now. I clutched him tighter, realizing that the vampire who drove me crazy was also the key to keeping me sane.


End file.
